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jikookiekosmos · 3 years

Text

Can You Feel Me || jjk

➥Pairing: best friend!jungkook/reader, stripper!jungkook/reader

➥Summary: It wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did: you slept with your best friend, Jungkook, and now you’re feeling confused. You want to take your mind off of things, so what do you do? Hire a stripper, of course! But when you leave the hiring to your roommate, you end up getting more than you bargained for.

➥Genre: best friends to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

➥Rating: 18+

➥Content Warnings: making out, marking/biting, dry humping, reader is blindfolded for part of it, jungkook is acting as a stripper (reader has no idea to start with), dirty talk, slight choking/breath play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, cursing (fuck is said a lot), oral (f. receiving), fingering, jungkook has a big dick, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill), cumming inside, praise, aftercare (they take a shower, lots of cuddling), jungkook is actually the sweetest

➥Words: ~8.6k

A/N: this is the follow up chapter to Be Good For Me, but it can also be read as a stand-alone fic.

Thank you to Kenz for always supporting me and inspiring me to be a better writer. ❤

Also, thank you to anyone who reads this, I hope you enjoy it~

➥Masterlist

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It’d been almost a week since you’d slept with Jungkook. You hadn’t talked much – which was 100% your fault since you kept dodging most of his calls and texts. But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

The look on his face when you told him the morning after that it meant nothing to you and that you both should essentially forget about it (spoiler: you couldn’t) was all you could see when you tried to sleep at night. He looked so crestfallen and it broke your heart.

But you kept telling yourself you were doing this for the best.

In your mind, he was confused. You thought that maybe he slept with you because he was horny and you just conveniently happened to be there. And hell, maybe that’s why you did it, too! You guys were just two consenting, horny adults, having a good time. There didn’t have to be feelings involved.

Which is what you kept instilling in your brain every day for the last 6 days. It didn’t make anything better. You kept thinking about how his hands felt on you when he was holding you up, how he took care to not hurt you and kept making sure you were ok with everything that was happening. How he looked at you like you were the only person in the world. It was driving you crazy.

Your roommate was tired of seeing you mope around your apartment, grumbling things about how you were treating this like a break-up and just needed to work it out with Jungkook already. She knew Jungkook, too, not as well as you, of course, but enough. She also tried to convince you that pushing him away wasn’t the answer but you were stubborn and didn’t want to listen.

It was Thursday night when she brought up the idea of hiring a stripper to help you forget.

“You’re kidding,” was your response as you closed your book you’d been reading, curled up on the couch. The look on her face told you she absolutely was not joking.

“Nope, I think it’s a great idea, and if you’re down you can just leave everything to me. I know a guy,” she responded nonchalantly and you just stared at her. When she didn’t elaborate, you sighed and agreed. Hell, hiring a stripper may be more fun that you thought. And you’d have a whole day at work the next day to think about it.

Work the following day went by much faster than usual, because you had been surprisingly buzzing with excitement about the whole stripper scenario that was supposed to go down later. You had decided to leave the hiring of the stripper up to your roommate and she had yet to actually tell you who she hired.

When she finally did, though, you couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Okay so like I said, I know a guy, but his style is a little...unique.”

“That sounds kinda sketch,” you said with a tiny frown. You were still excited but also…it sounded extremely sus.

“No I promise he’s really good! His whole thing is just that you can’t see him, so you’ll have to be blindfolded while he does his routine. He has great reviews though, people say it brings this whole new level to the experience.” She grinned and it honestly sounded crazy enough to be true, and you figured your generation was known to be into crazy shit so you guessed it wouldn’t be too bad…

You sighed in defeat. “Alright fine, fuck it. I trust you.”

“Yay! I think you’re really gonna love this guy.” Her beaming face was enough to melt your worries away. That was, until you understood what she just said.

“Wait, why do you keep saying ‘you’ like I’m gonna be the only one. I thought this was supposed to be a way for both of us to relax after this hell of a week.” You were confused about why she kept talking like she wasn’t going to be around-

“Nah, I actually have some stuff to do so this one’s all you.”

“Wait, no-“ you started to protest, but there was suddenly a knock at the door.

“Oh, that’s probably him. You just wait here, I’ll be right back.” She ignored your shock, already heading to open the door.

“Hey,” you yelled after her, “we’re not done talking about this.”

“We are for now,” was her response before she disappeared.

When she returned a little bit later, you were still where she left you, this time with your arms crossed.

“I don’t know about this,” you expressed your worry again.

“Y/N. Please just trust me on this. It’s gonna be great, I promise.” She smiled and you couldn’t deny how that smile made you feel like everything would be alright. She really was a good friend to you, even if you didn’t understand her at times.

“Okay, so he’s all ready to come in and start. We just need something to blindfold you with.” She started looking around the room.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back.” You left to go grab just what you needed from your room. You grabbed a tie - funnily enough, it was one of Jungkook’s. He was always leaving clothes at your apartment along with various other things he owned. You clutched the tie to your chest, trying to push your confusing feelings back down. Now wasn’t the time for that.

When you got back, your roommate excitedly turned you around, preparing to blindfold you. As you waited you held your breath, and when you felt the fabric on your face, you tried to open your eyes. All you saw was black and for a moment it actually kind of frightened you.

Your roommate told you to wait so she could go get a chair, and when she returned she held onto your hand which calmed you down some, guiding you so you could sit down. You heard her walk away to open the door, and soon after you heard her come back with what sounded like another set of footsteps.

“Alright well I’ll leave you guys to it. Don’t break anything in our apartment or I swear to God I won’t pay you.” Her tone was joking, and she almost sounded like she might know this person, if you didn’t know any better. She was probably doing it to make you feel better, though, and you had to admit it helped.

Once you heard her footsteps fade away, you were suddenly very aware that you were in the room blindfolded with a complete stranger. And as much as that fact scared you, it also excited you. Which probably wasn’t supposed to happen, but you know.

“So,” you started awkwardly. You heard the other person make a sound that was something like a sharp intake of breath but it was honestly hard to tell. Were they nervous?

They cleared their throat. “Your friend seems nice,” was the first thing they said, and it was so unexpected that you couldn’t help but laugh.

His voice also sounded really hot, it was deep and had a faint accent to it and you were somewhat sad you couldn’t see who the voice belonged to because you just knew he had to be attractive.

“Yeah, she’s the best. She also said you came highly recommended which I gotta say,” you tilted your head to the side, in what you hoped might be his direction, “I’m kinda curious to see why that is.”

He chuckled, the sound dark and mysterious.

“Well, I’ll be more than happy to show you.” More footsteps as he got closer now, and soon you could feel him close to you.

“What’s your name, babygirl?”

Oh fuck, you were in trouble. Fuck, that pet name, what the fuck-

“Y/N,” you stuttered out. It felt like he was standing right in front of you now.

“Mmm,” he hummed, that accent threatening to drive you crazy, “pretty name for a pretty woman.” You felt something brush against your knee, making you jerk slightly in the chair.

Yeah, you were liking this blindfold thing a little too much, probably.

You laughed. “Please, you can’t even see all of me to know that.”

“Don’t have to,” came his hushed response. “I can see everything I need to-“

He paused for a moment and when he spoke again, it was right by your ear.

“And what I’m seeing right now, tells me that you are very attractive.” His lips ghosted along the shell of your ear, never touching, and the teasing was making you hot.

‘For the love of god,’ you thought to yourself, ‘please do not already get aroused by this stranger in your home-‘

“That’s very kind of you, stranger who has a very attractive voice and is probably attractive in general.” There came that damned chuckle again.

“Hm, I’m glad you think so. How about I show you why I do my job the way I do now, yeah?” He sounded a lot closer now too, and you definitely felt something in front of your legs, probably his own.

“However, if at any point I do anything you’re not comfortable with, I need you to tell me, ok?” Even with that hot sounding voice you could still hear the concern. Which, of course, made him even more hot and you were so sad you couldn’t see him-

“Yes, of course, I’ll let you know. I’m fine right now, I’m enjoying all of this.”

“Good,” you could almost hear the smile in his voice. “First,” he continued, “blindfolding is effective because it takes away one of your senses.”

“Which means-“ his hand brushed against your cheek, “all of your other senses are heightened. Everything is more intense.” You felt as his fingers trailed from your cheek down to your neck before slightly curving around your throat.

You let out a quick gasp, your arousal from his actions immediate.

He gently squeezed, not really applying any pressure at all, it was more of just a touch, but it made you wet all the same. You tried to discreetly rub your thighs together because you didn’t want this happening so soon.

“I-I see,” you stuttered, his fingers still wrapped around your throat. He was applying feather light touches there, while simultaneously trailing the fingers from his other hand down your bare arm, since you were still wearing a sleeveless dress from earlier.

“So even though you can’t see me,” you heard him say as he removed his fingers from your neck, making you almost whine at the loss. “You can feel everything I’m doing to you that much more.”

It was then that you felt him close to your lap, and before you could process what was happening, he grinded down, close enough to where you could almost feel him, just as he said.

It felt like he was rolling his hips, and it was like he could see what you were thinking, because he used his hands to guide both of yours to his hips so you could feel exactly what he was doing.

“Wow, you’re really good at this,” you breathed out without thinking, and you were rewarded with another beautiful sounding chuckle from the man now above you. He sounded so hot, holy fuck-

“I’m glad you think so, because there’s plenty more where that came from,” was his response, and before you could question what he meant, he ground down again and this time you did feel it.

You bit your lip to hold in a quiet moan that threatened to slip out. Suddenly, a hand gripped your chin and tugged it down a little, making you stop biting your lip.

“Nuh uh, none of that, babygirl,” fuck there it was again, no pet name had ever had that effect on you before.

He was still rolling his hips and from what you could feel with your hands and in other places he seemed like a real fucking expert at it. It was getting harder and harder to hold in any sounds, but you really didn’t want to let any out just yet.

“I want to hear all the pretty sounds you can make,” he said, and he was just hovering above your lips now. God this stranger was going to be the death of you.

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath, turning your head to the side as you tried to concentrate on something other than the feeling of him so close to your clothed core.

“What made you want to hire a stripper, anyway,” the mystery man surprised you by changing the subject. “Your friend said something about you were having a bad week?”

All the memories of everything involving Jungkook came flooding back and it was the last thing you wanted to think about right now. But, you couldn’t blame him for being curious, and since he was showing you such a good time, it’d be rude to not answer him.

“Yeah, it’s – fuck – it’s been a week.” He was still rolling his hips and you made no attempt to stop him. If the small pants you could hear from him every now and then above you were anything to go by, he seemed to be enjoying it, too.

You wondered how much you should tell him, and you figured since he was a stranger, pouring your heart out wouldn’t really do too much bad to anyone.

“I did something bad, and it’s been hard to forget about it. I-I hurt someone I have really strong feelings for,” when you finished your sentence, he stopped for just a second before he kept going.

“Yeah? And that’s what made you want to go and hire a stripper to take your mind off of things?”

You nodded, your thoughts jumbled. “If I could take everything back I would, but it was one of those things – you ever think you’re not good enough for someone? I mean, hopefully you haven’t ever thought that you weren’t worth it because you sound amazing, but-“ you were cut off by the feeling of lips suddenly pressing against your neck, sucking lightly. You let out a small gasp, the feeling definitely more intense than it should’ve been.

You reached out involuntarily, and thankfully you found what you were looking for: his shoulders. He had broad shoulders and from what you could feel he seemed quite muscular. And god you wished you could see him.

“You’re more than enough, for anyone,” he said as he continued trailing down your neck toward your shoulder. His voice was quieter then, and almost sounded familiar…

You had Jungkook on your brain though, so that’s probably why you were imagining that.

“Do people pay you to say things they wanna hear alongside making them feel good,” you asked jokingly.

“Sometimes. But this one was on the house, babygirl,” you could feel him speaking the word against your neck as he continued placing kisses, almost like he was trying to brand your skin with it.

You couldn’t help it. You let out a small moan and heard him chuckle right by your ear.

“Ah, there it is. Seems like I’m finally doing my job right, huh,” that deep, deep voice was filling your head and all you could think about was -

- still Jungkook.

Now, this stripper in your apartment just doing his best was a great distraction, but lately almost all of your thoughts had been filled with Jungkook and how badly you had fucked up. You guessed the man above you could tell the shift in your mood, because he stopped everything he was doing.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Hm,” you muttered back weakly.

“What’s on your mind?”

You laughed. “Why, you curious?”

“Sure. But also,” you gasped as he started rolling his hips again, this time with more force than before. Instead of just feeling him, you felt something press against you. And if it’s what you thought it was, that made you even more excited.

“I’m here to show you a good time. So if you’re thinking about anything that’s going to upset you, I’m going to change that right now.”

He was essentially grinding down right against your clit now, and since your dress was thin you could feel everything. You let out a whimper because you didn’t have a choice.

“Oh my god, Ju- just do whatever you want to.” You had started to say a name - his name - and thankfully saved yourself in time.

At least, that’s what you had hoped.

He stopped moving, and it was then that you knew you’d fucked up.

“Babygirl?”

You gulped. “Y-yes?’

He slowly ground down and you felt something very hard press against your core. It felt amazing and you tried to lift yourself up to feel it again. His fingers were wrapping around your throat once more, keeping you from moving.

“It sounded a lot like you were about to say a name then,” he continued, drumming his fingers along your neck, squeezing every so often. His tone was low, dark, and sounded dangerous.

You gulped again. “N-no that’s not-“

He cut you off by another squeeze around your throat, this time with more pressure than before. You gasped, and you swear you heard him let out a soft groan.

“You know,” he said as he placed a kiss around your collarbone, “you can’t see me. So, if you’re thinking about someone making you feel good, you can call me by their name. If it helps.”

His logic made sense but also how weird would you feel calling this stranger Jungkook’s name? Your thoughts were indeed simply all about Jungkook right now, but would it be really ok to do that?

As you contemplated, he grinded down again, making you moan.

“What do you think, babygirl?” You started rolling your own hips as best you could in the position you were in. “How about you let me hear that name fall from those pretty lips of yours, hm?”

“I- are you sure?” Your eyes were squeezed shut from the pleasure that was building up, despite not being able to see anything due to the blindfold.

“Yes, if it’ll make you feel good, call me whatever you want, whoever you want.”

You could feel his lips hovering over yours again, and one particular thrust had you reeling and losing control before you could realize it.

“Jungkook,” you said it barely above a whisper, your lips brushing against his as you did so. His fingers were still wrapped around your throat, and he squeezed them with the most pressure he’d done for the whole night. You moaned again.

“Fuck, I knew you’d sound so pretty.” He suddenly stopped moving and you couldn’t feel him anymore. You started moving your head side to side to try and find him.

It was then that you felt yourself being lifted up and turned around, before you felt yourself sitting down again. He placed your hands on what you guessed were his shoulders, and you realized then that you had to be straddling him.

Listen, you’d never hired a stripper before, so you weren’t sure how all this worked. You didn’t know if they got intimate, and if they did, how intimate they got. You also weren’t sure if it was just different for everyone.

But whatever was happening now, he seemed to definitely be enjoying it, and you knew you were. And not seeing him was suddenly a blessing, because now all you could think about as you were straddling this ridiculously-attractive-sounding man, was the boy with the bunny smile that stole your heart.

Even if you realized it too late.

He used his hands that were now around your waist to roll you forward. You had momentarily forgotten how dresses work, and since you were straddling him now, you were rolling against him with just your panties as a barrier from his figure under you.

“Fuck,” you let your head hang as the pleasure washed over you, and with the sensitivity you felt due to your senses being heightened, you would absolutely cum all over this stranger in your apartment if you weren’t careful.

He, however, seemed very hard underneath you, so you guessed he didn’t mind much.

“Can you feel me, babygirl,” he asked breathlessly, panting as you kept moving against him. His small noises were almost driving you insane, and all you could see behind your eyelids was how Jungkook looked when you were on your knees for him that night.

You were also really grateful Jungkook never called you babygirl because you’d still probably be in your bed with him even now, almost a week later.

You nodded, moving faster on your own accord letting out moans as quietly as possible. Soon he started to let out sounds that matched your own, and it spurred you on to continue.

He trailed his fingers along your neck, which made you shudder in his hold. You heard him let out a soft chuckle and before you could ask why, his hand wrapped around your throat again.

Except this time, instead of just squeezing to apply pressure, he pulled you closer to him by the hold he had on your neck. He was basically manhandling you while you were straddling his lap blindfolded and holy fuck were you enjoying it.

“Do I make you feel good,” he asked against your lips, giving them a small peck, as if to test the waters. You nodded again, panting as you could feel your release approaching quickly.

“Jungkook,” you let the name roll off your tongue again because fuck it, why not, at this point. He groaned and squeezed around your neck, making you gasp.

“Please,” you breathed out. You felt him drum his fingertips against the pulse point in your neck.

“Please what,” he all but growled out, that deep accent as strong as ever. His voice seemed a little more strained now as he was coming undone too, but he was holding it together a lot better than you were.

You placed your hand on top of his and squeezed. “More, please,” you said weakly, hoping he’d understand.

“Fuck,” was the response you got, before he applied more pressure. It was getting harder to breathe, but never to the point where you felt like you were in danger or it hurt. He was giving you just enough of what you wanted, and it was bringing you to the edge very fast.

“You look so sexy like this, Y/N, fuck-“ he broke off and he definitely sounded a lot like he was losing his composure now.

“Jungkook, fuck, I-“ you stuttered as you kept rolling your hips on top of him as he guided you with one hand on your waist, the other still around your throat, a feeling you were now fond of.

“Come on, let go for me,” he spurred you on, and you knew it wouldn’t be long now. Especially not when you could feel him panting again by your ear.

“Cum for me, babygirl,” he said as he gently bit down on your earlobe, a harsh contrast from many of his other actions tonight.

“Fuck, Jungko-“ you were cut off as his lips crashed against your own , thankfully, because he swallowed all the sounds you made as you were experiencing one hell of an orgasm. His hands were gripping your hips so tight you felt like he could break you if you let him.

And maybe you should.

He was still panting below you, letting out soft moans as you started slowing down. You didn’t want to be the only one to reach your high, though, so you kept going.

“F-fuck, Y/N, you don’t have to,” his voice was low and didn’t have as strong an accent now, but you couldn’t focus on that. All you could focus on right now was returning the favor for this stranger that just gave you one of the best orgasms you’d ever had.

“It’s your turn to cum for me now,” you said against his lips, since neither of you had moved from earlier. He groaned into the kiss and you felt yourself becoming overstimulated at this point, but if you kept getting to hear the sounds he was making, you’d deal with it as long as you needed do.

“Fuck, babygirl,” he moaned and you swear you almost came again right then. You couldn’t help it, you wanted to see him, needed to see him. You wanted to watch this man beneath you fall apart.

“Can I see you,” you asked timidly, still rolling your hips forward, trying to bring him to that same euphoric state you’d just reached yourself.

His response was…not what you expected. Instead of a simple yes or no, he started slowing your movements until you were completely still on his lap. Had you done something wrong?

“Y/N,” he called your name. That voice…no way, it couldn’t be…

“Jungkook?” Your voice cracked as you called out his name, this time not out of pleasure, but out of genuine confusion.

You felt him remove his hands from around your waist, going now to the back of the tie still blindfolding you. You felt him untie it and suddenly it fell from your face and into your lap. You blinked to readjust your eyes to the light, and then you looked at his face.

Your heart sank.

“Jungkook,” you asked again. You saw him gulp and nod, so many emotions hidden behind his big doe eyes that you were sure mirrored your own.

“Hey” he tried offering you a small smile. Under normal circumstances, you would have returned it. But this was not a normal circumstance; in fact, it was anything but.

His hands hand gone back down to your waist, but he wasn’t touching you again yet. Which, honestly, you were grateful for right now because you had no idea what the fuck was going on.

When you made no attempt to speak, his eyes widened. “I can explain-”

“That would be a good idea,” you responded, trying to keep your tone under control because you really, really did not want to fight with him again. You’d been beating yourself up over how you treated him the last time you saw him, and the idea of pushing him away even more hurt your chest.

He sighed, the sound almost coming out shaky. “I just- I wanted to fix things. I know what you said about what happened between us, and that it didn’t mean anything,” hearing your owns words coming from him hurt more than you thought it would.

He looked into your eyes now, taking your hands into his own, rubbing gentle circles onto the backs of them with his thumbs. “But I know that’s not true. We’ve been so close for so long now, I can tell when you’re fighting something, especially when you fight your own feelings.”

You could feel yourself tearing up at his words, and is if on cue, he reached up and brushed his thumb across your cheekbone, catching a tear that hadn’t quite fallen yet.

“I know you’re scared,” his voice was soft, soothing. “Y/N, I’m scared, too. Fuck, I’m so scared of doing something wrong, so terrified of hurting you.” He cupped your face in his hand, making you instinctively lean into his touch.

“Jungkook, I just don’t know…” you trailed off with a sigh. And you were telling the truth: you didn’t know. You didn’t know why you were feeling this way. You knew that you loved him, that you would do anything for him, and that you never wanted to hurt him.

So why was this so difficult?

His eyes held yours and suddenly he looked more determined. “You may not know right now, and that’s ok. But,” he added as he leaned his forehead against yours, “I know.”

You held your breath while you waited for him to continue.

“I know that I’ve loved you for a long time. And not just as your best friend, but I’ve loved you for the person you are. The way you laugh, the way you smile, every little thing about you is something that I adore.”

Every word that fell from his lips made the feeling in your chest more overpowering, to the point where you felt like you may burst. Jungkook was confessing to you. Something you’d only ever considered would happen in another lifetime, something you’d wanted to hear for so long.

But you convinced yourself a long time ago that it would never happen, and that’s why you’d pushed him away.

Jungkook sighed after a few moments of silence, pulling away from you and giving you a sad, small smile. “It’s ok if you don’t feel the same, I understand.”

He couldn’t be any further from the truth. You loved him with everything you had, and you wanted to show him. No more holding back, no more fighting feelings. The only thing that mattered right now was Jungkook and that you were here with him.

You knew you had to act fast, or else he may try to leave and you didn’t know what would happen after that. He was looking down so when you suddenly moved to hold his face in your hands, his eyes widened with surprise.

You kissed him with all the sincerity you could muster, hoping he could feel how much you loved him with the way your lips were moving against his. His arms wound around your waist as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss and letting out a content sigh.

You pulled back for a moment to catch your breath. “I love you, too.” You felt him smile against your lips, but before he could kiss you again, you pulled back more.

“I love you even if you pretend to be a stripper and have me blindfolded to where I can’t tell it’s you.” His laughter made you smile, your chest feeling warm upon hearing that sweet sound.

“Jeon Jungkook, honesty what the fuck were you-” he cut you off by kissing you again, the kiss soft at first but quickly turning intense when he bit down on your bottom lip, swallowing a small moan from you.

“I promise I’ll explain later,” he started mouthing at your neck, your hands instinctively finding purchase in his hair. “For now, though, how about you let me do my job and take care of you, hm? Babygirl,” he added the last part as he thrusted upward to meet you again, the feeling still enough to overwhelm you since it hadn’t been that long.

“Fuck, I love it when you call me that,” your eyes closed as he stated to mark your neck, no longer holding back. He chuckled and you felt the vibration against your skin.

“I can tell,” he added, moving his hands up and down your sides as he continued rolling his hips forward. You wanted to wipe that cocky smirk off his face, so you met his thrusts with one of your own, pushing down hard enough to earn a groan from him.

“You know,” you added, “there’s probably somewhere much more comfortable where we can continue this.” He grinned at your suggestion.

“I like the sound of that. Lead the way.”

You moved to get off of his lap, but before you could do anything, he got up from the chair, picking you up at the same time and wrapping your legs around his waist. Your arms wound around his neck.

“I thought you said you wanted me to lead,” you quipped, raising your eyebrow. He gave you a quick peck on the lips.

“I just need you to tell me which bed I’m going to fuck you on, and I’ll handle the rest,” was his response, and his words had you becoming wet again at an embarrassingly fast rate.

“My bed, preferably.” He started walking to the staircase then, and you thought he may put you down, but as always, Jungkook managed to surprise you when you least expected it.

You knew he was strong. Jungkook liked to work out, he liked to stay fit. But him being able to carry you up an entire flight of stairs while mouthing at your neck, not bumping into anything along the way or missing a single stair? It had you feeling dizzy.

When the two of you reached your bedroom, Jungkook pushed you against the wall so that he could still hold you up and open the door with his free hand. The feeling of being caged between him and the wall was doing no favors for your arousal, and your panties were practically sticking to you now. You wanted them off, and soon.

You figured that it wouldn’t be much longer before you’d be getting your wish.

When the door was opened, Jungkook walked both of you through it before placing you on the bed, hovering over you as he captured your lips with his once again. You pulled him closer as his thigh parted your legs. He pressed against your core, making you gasp.

“I love you,” he said as he kissed down your neck, each kiss leaving you feeling like your skin was on fire. “Let me take care of you.”

You watched as he kept moving down until he was situated with his head between your legs, staring up at you as pulled up the skirt of your dress and played with the hem or your panties.

“Let me make you feel good,” he said in that same low tone from earlier, placing a soft kiss on the inside of your thigh. He looked at you now like he was asking for permission. You nodded, desperate for him to touch you again.

He started sliding your panties down your legs until they were around your ankles, removing them completely before tossing them over his shoulder. His eagerness made you giggle, causing him to look up at you with a smirk.

“What’s so funny, hm,” he asked, massaging your thighs but not yet providing you with any relief where you wanted it.

“Nothing, just you.” He hummed but let it be, inching closer now to your core, close enough you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

“You’re already so wet for me, babygirl.” There was that pet name again, the one that drove you insane, and you suddenly weren’t sure if you’d be making it out of this bedroom anytime soon.

“Jungkook, please,” you didn’t mean to let out a whine, but the sound that just came from you sure sounded a lot like one. Jungkook chuckled.

“As you wish,” he answered, giving your clit a quick lick that had you arching your back. He’d barely done anything yet and you were already overwhelmed.

Without a warning, he started tonguing at your entrance, moving it in and out slowly, his hands gripping your thighs to keep them apart as you were shaking.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you called out and your hands buried themselves in his hair. You felt more-so than heard him moan.

“You taste so good,” he said before he continued, going faster now. You chanced looking down at him and the sight made you shudder.

He was staring up at you, his lips wrapped around your clit, dark hair falling somewhat into his eyes. He looked like pure sin and you wanted him to devour you. And, judging by how he seemed to be enjoying himself, it looked like that’s what he wanted to do as well.

You felt him gently prod a finger at your entrance as he started licking your clit faster. You were more than wet enough to accommodate his long fingers, but as always, he had to make sure you were ok before doing anything.

“Tell me if it hurts, ok,” he was looking up at you again, his eyes focused on your face. You smiled.

“Kook, you act like I’ve never had anything inside me before,” you joked with him. He smirked.

“Just making sure,” he said as he plunged two fingers inside of you, the motion making you breathless. His long fingers could easily reach spots you couldn’t and the pleasure had you gushing even more.

“Oh my god,” you moaned out when he curled his fingers, finding your g-spot almost immediately.

He continued licking and sucking at your clit again, now trying to match the rhythm he had going with his fingers. Your hips were starting to move so much that he had to hold them down with his unoccupied arm.

“Please don’t stop,” you begged, hands pulling on his hair again, making him groan. He went faster now, and you knew that if you didn’t stop him soon, you’d be cumming in no time.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna- if you keep doing that I’m-,” the pleasure was so intense that you were having trouble forming sentences, your warning not coming out.

He understood, though, and that just made him go faster.

“Cum for me, babygirl,” he said it breathlessly, making sure to speed up his actions enough to push you over that edge.

You shuddered violently as you came for the second time that night, a string of moans and Jugnkook’s name leaving your lips as you rode out your high with his fingers still inside of you.

Once you started to calm down, he carefully pulled his fingers out and you watched as he sucked the fingers into his mouth before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, coming back up to kiss you again. You could feel how hard he was as he was pressed against your thigh.

“It’s my turn to take care of you now,” you told him in a soft tone right by his ear, cupping him and being rewarded with a moan as you did.

He leaned up to take off his shirt, your hands going to work removing his jeans. When he had shed all of his clothing, he pulled your dress off as well, taking care to not hurt you in the process, despite his eagerness to see you naked before him once more.

He was sitting on his haunches now in front of you, pushing his hair out of his face as he looked down at you. You couldn’t help but moan as you looked at him.

He wasn’t just looking at you with lust, however; he was looking at you with so much love that you felt a warmth spread throughout your whole body.

“Come here,” you opened your arms, “please. Need to feel you,” you added and he smiled. He moved closer then, stroking himself, his cock leaking precum as he rubbed the head against your still soaked folds.

You both knew that you were on the pill and that you both were always safe with any previous sexual partners you’d had, so you had no qualms with him being inside of you unprotected and neither did he.

You always told yourself that this type of sex was something you wanted to experience the first time with someone you truly loved, and it looked like now was the time.

He pulled you further down the bed so he could line himself up with your entrance, just barely pushing in. He looked at you and it seemed like he was holding back.

“Y/N,” he breathed out, “I need you to tell me if it hurts, ok? I’m gonna go in slow-“

“Jungkook, it’s fine,” you encouraged him. You knew he was big – you remembered from when you’d taken him in your mouth that night – so you were aware of what you were in for. “I promise I’ll let you know.”

You ran your hand lovingly over his tattoos that extended from his shoulder all the way down his arm and over his hand as he readjusted his grip on your thigh. You gave him a nod and it seemed to be the last bit of encouragement he needed.

He pushed in and all but knocked the breath out of you. You weren’t sure when the last time you’d had something, or someone, so big inside of you – and you realized the answer may have actually been never.

He was stretching you out in a way that faintly hurt due to overstimulation from you having cum recently, but the look on his face and the sounds he was making made you forget all about that. His lips were parted, eyes half-lidded as he looked down at you. He licked his lips as he pushed in further, letting out a strained moan.

“You’re so tight, fuck,” he groaned as he finally bottomed out. His eyes were closed now and he didn’t make any attempt to move, probably so you could adjust to his size, but you wanted to tease him a little. You clenched around him and felt him twitch inside you.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he hung his head, hair falling into his eyes again. “Shit, don’t do that or I’m really gonna have a hard time holding back.”

“Then don’t,” you told him, clenching around him again. His grip on your thighs tightened.

He opened his eyes again and was looking at you know, his stare intense. You knew you were in for it now.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he growled, suddenly pulling out and slamming back into you with a force that had you shifting up the bed. Each thrust left you gasping, unable to form any sounds as the pleasure washed over you at a degree you’d never felt before.

“You feel so good around me,” Jungkook moaned out, his pace increasing as he kept pounding into you. He pushed your knees up to your chest so he could get closer to you, the new angle leaving you a moaning, panting mess beneath him.

He was close enough to you now that you could wrap your arms around him, your nails digging into his shoulder blades every few thrusts as the pleasure intensified. He was panting by your ear now, saying your name so sweetly, making you clench around him each time.

You could feel the familiar heat building up in your stomach again, albeit not as strong as before since you’d already cum a few times tonight, but it was still strong enough. It seemed like Jungkook was getting close now, too, and you wanted to help him over that edge.

As he felt your walls tightening around him, he leaned his head back, cursing before coming down to kiss you harshly. He was moaning into your mouth now, and you were swallowing almost every beautiful sound he made.

“I won’t last much longer,” he panted out, his kisses and thrusts becoming more sloppy.

“Me too, baby, me too,” you pulled him impossibly closer, wanting to feel him as much as you could. You saw as his brows furrowed together and listened as his moans started becoming louder and more frequent.

You had a thought then, and you figured now would be the best time to act on it. You took one of his hands and placed it around your neck. Jungkook looked down at you and you felt him twitch inside you.

“Y/N,” he moaned out, squeezing slightly, the pressure making your high start to approach much faster than before.

“You’re always so good for me,” he continued, praising you as he leaned down to kiss you and squeezed again. He was so careful, always applying the same amount of pressure, never too much. You could breathe easily, but just the feeling of his hand there was enough to push you over the edge for the third time.

“Jungkook,” you cried out, your orgasm less violent than before, but the feeling was different now, somewhat still heightened since he was inside of you. Your walls clenched around him hard, making him let out a long, loud moan. He moved his hands now to grip the bed sheets so he had some way to ground himself as he was coming undone.

“Y/N, fuck, I’m gonna cum, I love you so much, I-,” you cut him off as you pulled him into a kiss, one that you filled with as much love and passion as you could. He kept moaning as he continued his now uncoordinated thrusts, once, twice, three more times before he twitched inside of you and you felt him fill you up, cumming inside you with a loud groan.

He was breathing heavily, his forehead pressed against your shoulder, eyes closed as he came down from his high. You were rubbing his back and placing kisses on his temple, feeling as he softened inside of you but made no attempt to pull out just yet.

“Well,” you started to say, “that was nice.” You felt him chuckle against your shoulder.

“Just nice, huh,” he asked as he was still laying on top of you, leaning up on his elbows now so he wouldn’t crush you under his weight.

“Hmmm,” you pretended to ponder about it. Jungkook feigned hurt and the look on his face made you laugh.

“You made me cum 3 times in the span of like an hour. I’d say that’s pretty good.”

It was his turn to laugh. “Trust me, babygirl, I can do way better than that.”

The suggestion had you slightly throbbing again upon hearing it, but you knew you were done for right now. Perhaps in the future you could go for longer rounds without needing a break, but right now you just wanted to stay like this with Jungkook.

“I’m sure you can,” you agreed as you captured his lips in a gentle kiss. You felt him sigh against you, sounding completely content.

He grunted as he pulled away. “As much as I’d hate to move right now, we should probably get cleaned up. How does a nice, warm shower sound?” You nodded and he pulled out carefully, leaving you feeling slightly empty now that he was no longer inside of you.

He got off the bed first, legs somewhat wobbly from what you could tell, but he was probably in much better shape than you were. You actually dreaded getting up because you weren’t sure how well you’d be able to walk-

You didn’t have to think about it very long, though, before Jungkook was scooping you up and carrying you bridal style towards your bathroom. The gesture wasn’t grand or anything, but it made you fall even more for him.

You were so, so in love with him. And there was no use in denying it anymore.

During your shower, you both took turns cleaning each other off, sharing passionate kisses whenever you’d be facing each other. You ended up just staying under the water wrapped in each other’s arms for most of the shower, but you both eventually decided to get out when the water started to get cold.

Jungkook helped you dry your hair with a towel, his lips slightly parted as he focused on drying it carefully. As you looked up at him and saw his face full of concentration, you felt that familiar warm feeling blossom throughout your chest. It was a feeling you’d felt for quite some time now, whenever you’d catch him doing something endearing.

Once you both were clean and dried off, you settled back into the bed, you opting for one of his t-shirts and him in a pair of sweatpants. It was later in the evening than you thought it was, and you suddenly realized how tired you’d become.

Jungkook was lying on his back and you placed your head on his chest, his arm wrapping around you to pull you close. He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, looking down at you as you sighed comfortably.

“Hey,” he said softly. You peered up at him sleepily, making him smile. “We don’t have to get into it now, but-“

He trailed off, seeming somewhat troubled. You figured it was probably because of what happened the last time you two slept together.

Except then, all these mutual feelings weren’t out in the open like they were now. You leaned up to kiss him, hoping to assuage his worries as much as possible for the time being.

“I love you,” you told him, not missing how his arm that was wrapped around you pulled you even closer. “And I know you love me. I think that’s all we need to know right now.”

Your answer seemed to help somewhat, but it looked like it wasn’t quite what he was looking for since his brows were still slightly furrowed.

“I know that, I guess I’m just worried about what happens now,” he said quietly as he rested his cheek on top of your head.

“Well,” you pulled back so you could look him in the eyes. “I figured maybe we’d date or something.”

Your answer took him off guard and the look on his face was too laughable you couldn’t help but giggle. A second later he broke out into a huge grin.

“Wait, are you serious,” he asked, his tone excited. You nodded and he pulled you into a kiss, hugging you tightly.

“God, I’ve waited so long for this,” he added, pulling away to leave a peck on your nose. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”

“Honestly, me too,” you added, giggling again when he brushed his nose against yours.

Before you got comfortable laying on his chest again, there was still something your were curious about. You folded your hands together and laid them on his chest, resting your chin on top of them as you searched his face. He was still beaming and the sight had your stomach feeling fluttery.

“So, this whole stripper plan. Explain.”

He looked taken aback and averted his eyes, only to have you turn his face toward you again.

He sighed. “I asked your roommate if she had any idea how I could fix things. It was mainly her idea, but the blindfold thing was something I suggested because I knew it’d probably be best if you couldn’t see me- which now in hindsight sounds stupid,” he finished with a groan.

You laughed. “You’re both idiots, but I love you anyway.”

“Hey!” Jungkook tickled your sides, making you squirm in his hold. “We should at least get points for creativity.”

“Fine, I guess I can give you that,” you finally relented as you laid your head on his chest again. You could hear his heartbeat, slow and rhythmic, also soothing. “Where’d you learn to dance like that, though? You certainly felt like you knew what you were doing, even if I couldn’t see you.”

Jungkook’s laugh was like music to your ears as he rubbed your back. “You know those dance classes I took as electives in college? I learned a lot more than you think.”

“Ooh, interesting. Perhaps you can show me some time,” you peered up at him again, your eyes half-closed from being sleepy, “and not under the guise that you’re a stripper.”

“You got a deal, babygirl,” he said softly, giving you one last kiss before you placed your head on his chest again. You fell asleep listening to his heartbeat, the sound lulling you into the most peaceful sleep you’d had in weeks. His arms were wrapped around you protectively, making you feel safe. You knew the road ahead might not be easy, but you had your best friend – the man you loved more than anything else in the world – by your side. You knew that in the end, that would make it all worth it.

#bts #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios

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bestiesenpai · 3 years

Text

tattoo artist sukuna

I am way overdo to get my sleeve finished and I’m already itching to get a full back piece, so this is right up my alley. Gender neutral reader, and if you’d like to see the tattoo style i reference please go to @/novchild.jpg on instagram :)

It was a spur of the moment decision that led you to drive downtown with your friends at nearly midnight, drunk off each other's energy and eager to do something reckless. Speeding down the motorway, you scrolled through Instagram in search of a tattoo artist.

“Are you guys sure about this?” Your nerves had finally caught up to you as the car was parked in front of the studio you all chose. It was a typical brick and mortar building with a large skull painted on the only window to the outside world. There were a few bald men smoking cigarettes right outside the door, scrawling ink covering their exposed hands and faces.

“Yeah, c’mon!” No one waited for you, everyone climbing out of the car in excitement. Slowly, you got out of the car as well, head down as you walked past the men and into the shop.

Loud, blaring metal music met your ears, jarring you upright and tense. There wasn’t anyone you could see at the front desk, the only workers were huddled in a back corner leaning over something and laughing.

“Which one should I get?” Your attention was drawn away from the men in the corner and to the art hanging on the wall, all different flash sheets from various artists. Some were more gory, clearly drawing inspiration from horror movies while other pieces were bright and colorful, like bubblegum pop come to life.

“Hey.” A gruff voice cut through the loud music, and a man was now leaning against the front desk, spiky black hair in a ponytail with a bored look on his face and several piercings in both ears. He was clearly sizing you up, the black bar going across his nose moving as he did.

Unprepared to speak to him, you were happy when someone else stepped in and started chatting about prices. The man at the counter had on a hoodie with the sleeves rolled up, exposing one full arm and hand that was completely blacked out.

“Choso, any customers?” Another shouted, a man wide in stature with long hair. He sauntered up to the counter, tight black t-shirt showing off the traditional Japanese work covering every inch of skin.

“Getou, can’t you see?” Choso rolled his eyes and gestured to your little group.

“I can’t make conversation?” Pulling a face at Choso, Getou leaned his elbows on the counter and flashed a wide grin at all of you. “So, who’s the first to get some ink?” His narrowed eyes looked over your bare skin and you could see the wheels turning in his head.

“I am! I want that one!” One of your friends pointed at the wall, making Getou hum and nod.

“That’s Gojo’s work, he loves to draw the cute shit. I’ll call him over.” As a white haired man walked over at Geto’s call, one by one your friends made their decisions and were paired with artists.

“What did you choose, (Y/N)?” A friend asked, seeing you still stuck staring at the wall.

“I don’t know!” Throwing your head back, you were beginning to regret even tagging along. There were simply too many options and the task of picking something was daunting.

“Having a hard time choosing?” A flash of white crosses your vision and soon Gojo is leaning down into your field of vision, piercing blue eyes staring at you curiously.

“U-uh yeah.” Stumbling back from how close his face is, you realize how tall he is when he stands up straight, hands shoved into his pockets.

“Me and another guy just got done making a new flash sheet, lemme show you.” It takes him only a couple seconds to go back to his station and come back with a piece of thick paper with drawings on it.

Taking the paper, the drawings were unexpectedly cute. A lot of them looked like rough sketches or crayon drawings, simple in concept but intricate in detail.

“I’ll take this one.” Pointing at a mid-sized crayon drawing, your mouth ticked up in a smile as Gojo took the paper from you with sparkling eyes.

“That one is so cute, good choice! One sec!” Tossing the paper down, he dashes away shouting nonsensical words towards the back of the shop where they’d all been huddled up. “Sukuna! Someones here for ya!”

Rising straight up from a chair with a loud groan, a shirtless pink haired man glared sharply at Gojo. Even from a distance you can see the sharp black lines tattooed across his face and down his body, circles on each shoulder, dashed lines across his chest down his stomach and around his wrists as well.

“Geez you can really yell, you know that?” Running a hand through his hair roughly, Sukuna stands up, flexing his muscles and unknowingly giving the whole shop a show of his chiseled physique.

“There’s a client here to get a piece we made together earlier.” Shoving the paper in his face, Gojo points to the piece you selected. Sukuna mumbles a few words and sets his eyes on you, walking over with a swagger that makes you nervous.

“Alright, where do you want it?” Leaning close to you, Sukuna quirks a brow.

“I don’t know.” You sigh softly, looking down at your arms and legs. “I don’t-”

“Your arm, right here.” Grabbing onto your arm, Sukuna turns it outward to expose the flesh of your inner arm. “It would look good right here, about the size of my palm.”

“O-oh okay.” Nodding quickly, your face is burning when he lets go. His touch still lingered on your skin, the edge of his black painted fingernails digging in briefly as they squeezed you.

“I’ll be ready in ten minutes, go sign the paperwork.” Sukuna speaks with his back to you, already walking to the station he had been sleeping at and setting up. Rushing to fill in the proper papers, you wait nervously at the front of the shop for your turn.

The rest of your friends are already getting started, the whir of the tattoo machines adding to the ambience of the shop. With a wave Sukuna calls you over to his corner, still shirtless with a pair of gloves on.

“Hold out your arm.” Grabbing you once again, Sukuna angles your arm in front of a mirror by the table. Rubbing ointment on your skin, he sticks the stencil on and rubs firmly, making you squirm from the tickle of his hand getting close to your armpit.

“What do you think?” Stepping to the side, he looks at you in the mirror. “Little to the left? Right?”

“No, it’s perfect.” The longer you look at it, the longer you love it. Giving you a pat on the shoulder, Sukuna led you to the table, having you lay down and stick your arm out.

“This your first one, I can tell.” He said, adjusting your body how he seemed fit and rubbing more ointment on you.

“It’s that obvious?”

“Oh yeah, only a first timer would get something like this from me.” A cocky grin spread across his face and he gestured to the wall behind your head, covered in realistic black and white portraits. “This is normally my speciality.”

“You drew yourself?” Pointing up at one of the pictures that looked exactly like him minus the face tattoos, you chuckled.

“Nah, that’s my twin.” Your brows rose in surprise and you looked between Sukuna and the picture.

“Does he have-?” You waved over your face and body.

“He’s too scared to get a tattoo, says he’ll get ink poisoning and die.” Sukuna laughed, pouring out the various colored ink into little cups. “Won’t even let me do a tiny dot on him!”

“Safe to say you two are pretty different then.” You found yourself laughing a little as well, eased at Sukunas laid back nature.

“Mhmm, he’s busy going on the straight and narrow while I’m here ‘ruining my body’ as our grandpa likes to say.” Flashing quick air quotes, Sukuna revs up the machine and fiddles with the buttons. “Alright, you ready for this? Won’t have virgin skin anymore after this.”

“Yes!” Clenching and unclenching your fist, you pushed a deep breath through your mouth.

“If you start to cry, I won’t stop. And if you pass out, I’ll just wake you up.” That was his final warning before he leaned forward, using one large gloved hand to spread the skin of your arm taut.

The first prick of the needle against your skin made you jolt, sucking in a sharp breath and making your eyes fly open. Sukuna snorted, wiped your arm with a towel and kept going. Honing in on the marks and exposed pipes in the ceiling, you tried not to twitch from the needle anymore.

“You’re doing pretty well.” Sukuna mumbled, briefly sitting up and dipping in for more ink.

“Really?” Taking a look at the tattoo, you were surprised to see only one line had been done. It felt like at least three were placed into you.

“Yeah, don’t screw it up.” Sticking his tongue out at you, Sukuna went back to work. Transfixed on watching him, you saw the lines go into your skin, overflowing with ink and being wiped away repeatedly. You were also watching the way Sukuna’s arms flexed, the muscles in his body all on display right in front of you.

“Tell me about yourself while you stare at me.” Sukuna said, not looking up from your arm. Immediately, your head whipped away from him and a deep burn ran over your face. Sukuna laughed at your embarrassment, patting your arm with the paper towel a few times.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, you’re not the first one to do it.” That didn’t make it any better. Slapping a hand over your face, you let out an unintelligible noise from the back of your throat.

“Just great.”

“It’s okay to say you have a crush on me, a lot of people that come to the shop do.”

“Sukuna!” Laughing through the shame, you glanced over at him.

“Hey, it’s the truth.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“Well can you blame them when you’re built like that?” Feeling emboldened by the late night hour, you took a rather obvious look at Sukuna’s body. With only a pair of sweatpants on, you could see nearly all the tattoos he had.

“Aw thanks doll, I work out.” Sukuna shot a wink at you, briefly flexing both arms and making you blush again. “But enough about me, what about you? What made you come here so late at night?”

“My friends and I wanted to do something spontaneous.” Returning your gaze to the ceiling, the ache from the tattoo gun was beginning to settle into your skin. “And what better way to be spontaneous than to get a tattoo?”

“Ha, I hear that.”

“Why’d you get the ones on your face and stuff?”

“Thought they’d make me look cool, and I was right.” Giggling at his honesty, you quickly nodded in agreement.

“The ones on your face, did they hurt really bad?”

“The ones near my eyes yeah, those hurt the most. But thankfully Choso has a steady hand, so it didn’t last too long.”

Absentmindedly, you ran your fingers over your own face, drawing along the edge of your jaw and eye socket. There was no way you could get your face tattooed as heavily as Sukuna had, if at all ever. You had only just now gotten used to the pain of the needle on your arm and you were still twitching every so often.

“How’re you holding up so far?” Sukuna whispers close to your ear ten quiet minutes later. He’s completely focused on tattooing you yet his face is close enough that if you leaned up a little, you could graze his hair with your nose.

“Fine.” You whisper back, suddenly feeling awkward with the low tone of his voice.

“That’s good doll, real good.” His voice dropped even lower, overcompensating for the song ending over the stereo speakers. Trying not to stare at his serious expression, you look over at the other stations. Gojo is chatting up your friend excitedly, and there’s a number of colorful inks laid out before him. Choso and Geto are hard at work as well, with Choso pointedly not speaking, and a blonde man you’d noticed drinking a large mug of black coffee earlier with his button up sleeve rolled up to reveal two dragons on his forearms.

Just as the pain in your arm was starting to truly burn, the tattoo was over. Sukuna washed it down gently, patting your arm and humming to the song playing. Sitting up with a short grunt, he flicked his head to the mirror.

“Go ahead and take a look.”

Sliding slowly off the table, you held your arm out awkwardly and stood in front of the mirror. Your arm was slightly swollen and stinging, shoulder stiff from being in the same position for so long, but a smile spread on your cheeks.

“I love it.” It looked exactly like the picture: a crayon style drawing of a brown haired girl in a giant green frog, a big pout on her lips while the frog sat on a lily pad.

“Lemme snap a couple quick photos before I wrap you up.” Already with his phone out, Sukuna was quick at taking pictures, posing you like when he’d put the stencil on. “I’ll run down the aftercare stuff with you, also give you a card in case you forget any of it.”

You didn’t hear a thing he said about aftercare. Standing nearly chest to chest with Sukuna while he rubbed ointment on your skin and wrapped your tattoo up, the way his arms nearly wrapped around you to put the cover on, the gentle touch of his fingers pressing medical tape to your skin, even the way he was breathing softly and looking at you - it all had you distracted.

“Alright, you’re all done.” Sukuna patted your arm, breaking you from your trance.

“Thank you so much!” Looking down at your tightly bandaged arm, you could feel the intense heat radiating out of it. You quickly snapped your own picture of the bandage as Sukuna dug around in a drawer.

“And since I could tell you were zoning the fuck out just now, I wrote my number down on the aftercare sheet, so text me if you have any questions.” Holding the paper out to you, Sukuna had indeed scribbled his phone number on the paper in thick black marker.

“Can I really just text you?” Taking the paper hesitantly, you fiddled with it in your hands.

“Of course! I want your tattoo to heal well!” Sukuna nodded, throwing his arms out dramatically. Waiting for you to gather your stuff, he walked you to the front of the shop. “Text me anytime doll, I stay up late.” He whispered right before you got to the front counter, making your jaw drop and ears burn.

“(Y/N), you really got a girl in a frog?” A friend laughed, a bandage wrapped around their thigh.

“It’s cute!” You defended it, holding your arm close to your body.

“The cutest fucking one.” Sukuna added on, slapping the counter and pointing at everyone.

“Aren’t you cold without a shirt on?” Choso mumbled, typing away on his phone in the corner.

“No ‘cause I’m not anemic like you are.”

“It’s still cold outside.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s cold in here!” The two of them quickly devolved into petty squabble, giving each other light hearted shoves in the shoulder while Geto collected the money from everyone.

“Bye, thank you so much!” You all called out as you left, waving goodbye and shrugging your jackets back on.

“I’ll be waiting for that text, doll!” Sukuna shouted right as you stepped out, blowing you a kiss when you whipped your head over your shoulder in shock.

“Text? Were you flirting with him?” A slew of curious looks were thrown your way, making your shock even worse.

“N-no!” You stuttered and immediately grimaced at it, face getting warmer as you climbed into the car. “We were just talking while he tattooed me, he just wants to make sure it heals right.”

“Mhmm, whatever you say. Let’s go to the drive through now, Geto told me to eat something after getting tattooed!”

“Hey check Sukuna’s Instagram story, he already posted your tattoo (Y/N)!”

“Really?” Rushing to pull out your phone, it was indeed true. Sukuna had posted one of the pictures he took of your arm, a few silly frog gifs surrounding it, with the caption ‘painted a pretty doll with a pretty frog, hope they come back for more xx’.

“You two were definitely flirting!” Shouts resounded in the car, everyone giggling wildly at the caption. Giggling along with them, you quickly typed a message to Sukuna.

(Y/N): hey Sukuna this is (Y/N). Thanks again for the frog! And the picture you posted on your story looks really good :)

(Sukuna): no problem doll

(Sukuna): next time you want a tattoo, text me and i’ll draw up whatever you want

“Sukuna said he wanted to tattoo me again!” You announced to your friends, all of them oohing and crowding around your phone. “What should I say?”

“I’ll do it!” Someone snatched your phone before you could say anything, rapidly shooting off a message and tossing the device back to you.

(Y/N): are you free tomorrow?

“He’s not gonna-” Right as you were beginning to shake your head and type another message, he replied.

(Sukuna): for you? of course

#jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines

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duvetsandpillows · 3 years

Text

Lucky One

Pete Davidson x Reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Swearing, mention of needles, slight angst, drug use

A/N: This is my first Pete fic but I think I will definitely be writing more. Please let me know what you think!

I sat in bed, joint in one hand, lighter in the other. I’d been staring at the wall for the past half hour or so, drowning in my thoughts, forgetting the joint I’d been fiddling with was there to be smoked.

I was thinking about everything and nothing all at once. Have I taken my antidepressant? What do they do with the bagel holes? You’re gonna be alone forever. Don’t forget your earring is behind the back left leg of the desk. New thoughts beginning before the last one could end. I was exhausted yet I hadn’t done anything to warrant feeling so drained. I’d only left my bed to piss.

“Hey you home?” I glanced over at my door, reality setting back in, before realizing how messy my bed was; sketchbook and pencils scattered everywhere, weed crumbs and ash from not paying attention to what I was doing and empty monster cans. I kicked as much as I could off the end of the bed before putting the long forgotten joint to my lips and sparking it. The door slowly opened, Pete standing in the doorway holding a bag and a coffee.

“Whatcha doing in bed B?” he asked climbing into the bed handing me the coffee. I took a toke and thanked him while passing him the joint.

“I just don’t feel like moving. I feel like shit, my brain won’t stop for just a second. I just want everything to stop.” My voice breaking as I began to fight back tears. He blew smoke into the air, putting his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his side, handing me the joint.

“Breathe B, you’re gonna be okay. I know that sounds like bullshit but I’m here to help you through it.” I took a take and wiped a stray tear from my eye. “It’s always been me and you hasn’t it, that’s not gonna stop now. Did you take your antidepressant today?”

“I can’t remember,” I squeaked, letting the tears win the battle. Pete put his other arm around my chest and squeezed tight, resting his hand on the back of my head and rubbing his thumb.

He would whisper little pick me-ups every few minutes while I cried. “At least you didn’t walk straight into a street light like I did.” I looked up to see him pointing to a small bruise on his forehead. “I saw a woman carrying a dog in a baby sling thing and then boom! Street Light.” I giggled before taking a deep breath and wiping my tears with my sleeves.

“I guess you could say she threw you off your rhythm.” He rolled his eyes and pushed my head playfully before chuckling.

We’d been friends practically our whole lives, yet it was rare for us to talk about deep shit. Not because we didn’t care but we were good at talking each others minds off all the bullshit.

“Movie, smoke, munch? I brought gushers and twizzlers.”

“Only if I get to pick.”

“Obviously, you always pick.” I scoffed and sat up, rolling my eyes.

“Bullshit, we constantly watching The Mule.”

“Not my fault you can’t appreciate a masterpiece,” he said as he grabbed my rolling tray from the end of the bed and I began flicking through Netflix for something to watch.

“Your hair looks nice by the way,” he mumbled, eyes focused on rolling the joint. I glanced over at my reflection in the mirror, I looked as if I’d just climbed out of the hedge. I smiled and thanked him, deciding to put on Knocked Up.

Pete told me what he’d been up to all week and who the guests were gonna be while we watched the film. I made him a twizzler ring and he attempted to make me a bracelet but he couldn’t work out how to get the knot to stay tight.” After a couple more joints I sat up on my knees and faced him.

“Could... I maybe colour in your tattoos?” I asked, placing my hand on his leg to stay balanced, realizing how high I was after not moving for so long.

“Yeah of course, which one first?” I smiled and pointed to the unicorn on his arm and leant off the end of the bed to grab my pens, Pete grabbing hold of my foot as I almost fell off. After I’d finished the unicorn I moved onto the direwolf underneath. Pete was flicking through the pages of my sketchbook as I added icy blue to the eyes.

“Y’know,” he started, passing me a joint, “I reckon you could be a tattoo artist. You could even practice on me.” I stopped and looked at him a bit taken back.

“I’ve never thought about it before.”

“Maybe you should.”

Once I finished the direwolf I looked up to see Pete had dozed off, I smiled and pulled a blanket over him, moving the sketchbook off his lap. I rolled a joint and glanced at the open drawing of a group of clouds I’d been working on but hadn’t yet worked out what should accompany them.

I thought about what Pete said and picked up the sketchbook and a pencil. I smoked while drawing Frank the bunny’s head from Donnie Darko. It was my favourite film and Pete had watched it with me countless times.

After an hour or so I finished the outline and most of the infill with different shades of blue. I felt Pete roll over and put his arm across my lap. I looked down to see him, eyes half open, observing my drawing.

“That’s amazing.” His voice gruff and low.

“Thank you,” I said passing him a monster from my bedside table. He sat up partially and took a sip before handing it back to me. “Good nap?” He nodded and laid back down into my side.

“You should put that on me,” He kicked his leg out from under the blanket and pointed to the side of his thigh. “Here would be perfect.”

“If you’d like.” He sat up again and gently tore the sketch out of the book.

“Come on then.” I frowned and tilted my head slightly. “There’s a guy that could do this now, you could get one too?”

I stared at him in a bit of shock, not expecting him to actually want one of my pieces on his body. I thought he was saying it just to be nice. Also as I’d never considered getting a tattoo before. Not because I didn’t like them but more because I was nervous; I wasn’t great with needles and if tattoo’s would suit me.

“You up for it?”

“What if I look awful with one?” I blurted, Pete’s smile morphed into confusion.

“Why would you look awful?” You always look great.” I could feel my cheeks getting warm and I couldn’t help but ever so slightly smile. “Plus I think you’d look hot with one,” he mumbled handing me the sketchbook, open to a small drawing of a sheep I’d done high while watching Shaun the Sheep.

“It’s small, if you want it to be hidden then it’s easy.” I looked down at the doodle and thought about it for a moment.

“Fuck it lets go.”

I sat on a chair next to Pete watching as the tattoo artist, Jon, carefully traced over the light purple outline in dark blue ink. I began adding to my sheep. A few clouds in the background, similar to the ones on Pete’s.

“What you doing?” I handed him the paper, glancing over at his leg, in awe at how it was turning out. I looked back at Pete who was smiling at the drawing. I held out the pencil to him, when he didn’t notice I poked his arm with it.

“Ow, dick,” he said pouting and rubbing his arm. “What am I meant to do with this?”

“Add something to it, you got a piece of me,” I pointed to his leg. “Your turn.”

“I can’t draw like you and-”

“And I don’t care. Draw.”

While Pete drew, not phased at all by the needle going in and out of his leg, I chatted with Jon, asking him question about how he became a tattoo artist and what it’s like. I was slowly becoming more interested the more I watched him work. Once he was done he turned to me.

“You ready?” he asked, I nodded nervously and Pete passed him the design. Pete swapped places with me after taking a look at it in the floor length mirror. I decided to get it on my arm as I decided I wanted to always be able to see it now Pete had added to it. I told them I didn’t want to see it until it was finished, wanting Pete’s addition to be a surprise. I looked over at Pete, nerves starting to kick in a little.

“Have I ever told you I’m not brilliant with needles?” He chuckled and took my hand in his.

“Yep,” I winced as the needle hit my skin. “Like the time you gave blood because you thought that nurse was cute and threw up all over him before fainting.” I chuckled before biting the inside of my cheek and gripped his hand tight. “You’re good, just keep your eyes this way,”

Pete kept chatting with me and rubbing his thumb on the back of my hand, keeping me distracted from the pain.

“Should I be nervous with what you drew? It’s just clicked how much trust I’ve given you.” He pursed his lips, holding back either as smile or a laugh. “Pete...”

“Nah nah nah, it’s not that bad, but you said to add a bit of me. Trust me you’ll love it.” I raised my eyebrows before gripping his hand again, feeling a muscle in my arm unintentionally spasm.

“You’re good, it happens sometimes, we’re almost done here.”

After ten more minutes it was all done and he was wiping it up. It was aching it a little but I was really excited to see it.

“You ready to see it?” I nodded and looked at my arm to see the best tattoo I could imagine. The clouds were a beautiful combination of greys and whites, my sheep now with a spliff in its mouth and a second, slightly wonky looking, sheep with a spliff also in its mouth and sunglasses on. It kind of looked like a child drew the second sheep but I loved it even more for that.

“I put our initials at the bottom so we don’t forget who is who.” I giggled looking at his scruffy handwriting underneath. “So... what do you think?”

“I fucking love it!” I said wrapping my arms around him hugging him as tight as I could. “Thank you Pete.” I pressed a kiss to his cheek and let Jon wrap my arm up in cling film.

We grabbed some Taco Bell on the way home, I was designated DJ and he driver. I was, questionably, rapping along to Colson and Corpse’s new song while Pete laughed at me. He slipped his hand into mine, giving it a small squeeze and continued driving and started rapping along as if that was a normal for us to hold hands. I smiled and gave his a squeeze back even though I was a bit shocked. Shocked but yet it felt normal.

“You can roll the next one, my arm aches,” I said flopping onto my bed.

“Is that gonna be your excuse for the next week?”

“Did it work?” I looked up to see him shaking his head and chuckling as he picked up the rolling tray.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” I smiled and winked as it sat up.

“You’re lucky too, you get to look at this cute face all the time.” Pete leant forward and took my hand, pulling me into his lap.

“What would you say, if I asked you out... to dinner or something?” I wrapped my arms around his neck and furrowed my eyebrows.

“What like a date?” His smile and confidence drained from his face immediately and I had to force myself to hold back a laugh.

“It doesn’t have to be no, I just- aw fuck.” I started pissing myself laughing, holding onto him tight to keep my balance.

“Yes I’d love to go on a date, if you hurry up and roll that joint, I teased winking at him, swinging myself off his lap. “I’ll even put on The Mule yeah?”

“I’m definitely the lucky one.”

#Pete davidson imagine #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson x you #fuffy #angst

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crystalas · 3 years

Text

Junk Yard Talks

A continuation of the Demon Bull Divorce AU. I’ve never done anything like this before so if you have any questions or prompts by all means go for it.

Takes place after Hindsight.

MK, Mei and Red Son are scrap hunting in the junk yard for stuff to upgrade the tuk-tuk and truck, they run into a certain pair of demons.

Junk yard talks

Mei had never thought of exploring the city’s Junk Yard because if she needed any parts for her bike, she could always buy them brand new from the shop but according to Red Son it was a treasure trove of finds. For her it was a treasure trove of smells.

“Especially for prototypes and if you’re on a budget!” he had explained giving MK and a side long glance, “For me at least if a prototype blows up then at least I don’t have to worry about costs!”

“So, what are we looking for?” MK demanded as he inspected a rusted-out van.

“I don’t know that’s the beauty of looking!” Red Son exclaimed “You never know when inspiration will hit you!”

“Hopefully inspiration will hit us without us needing tetanus jabs afterwards” Mei muttered as she navigated around some sharp looking scraps and then glared at MK.

“Don’t give me that look it was his turn to choose what we did for the day!” MK whispered back at her. “I thought you’d be into this being a motor head yourself!”

“When he said we were going to be looking at machine parts I thought he meant shopping not dumpster diving!” she hissed back. And Red Son had begun to rummage through what looked to be a car that had been hit a train, MK kept his hands in his pockets as he looked around. It was weirdly giving him an idea to draw a monster made of junk maybe with an old digger spade for a jaw and rusty chains for hair…he took out his little note book he always kept on him when such idea struck him and began to sketch down the parts he wanted to use.

Huh maybe Red Son was right about inspiration hitting you here.

“Monkie Kid!” a voice demanded “It’s your worst nightmare!”

“Yin!”

“Jin!”

“The gold and silver demons!” the two voices sang before mimicking a rock solo, only then did MK look up and saw the two demons glaring at him crossly as they perched on top of nearby junk pile obviously hoping for more of a reaction that dumb confusion.

“Oi mate!” the gold one growled “It’s considered common courtesy to at least look at your demise!”

“Sorry I was in the zone!” MK apologized as he took out his staff to fight.

“Yeah, well you’re being very rude!” Yin declared.

“Barging into our home, not even acknowledging our sweet introduction; downright disrespectful I’d call it!” Jin cried.

“Hey MK did you find anything?” Mei asked and MK waved her off. “Hey weren’t those the guys who tried to run Pigsy out of business?”

“Yeah, I gotta fight them so give me a minute”

“A MINUTE??!” the two demons roared “You got some nerve!”

“Need a hand?”

“Don’t ignore us!” Yin shouted and MK looked up to see the two demons leaping down prepared to fight and MK prepared to do battle.

“What’s going on Noodle boy?” Red Son demanded as he turned a corner just to see everyone in mid fight pause and stare at him before Yin and Jin took a step back.

“Monkie Kid! Not Monkey King!” Yin grumbled and smacked his brother around the head “Told you we should have written that down!”

“Kid, King it’s kinda easy to mix up!”

“Hey are we fighting or what?” MK demanded “You wanted this!”

“Nah we’re good!” Jin exclaimed “Hey Red Boy how are things?”

“Not bad all things considered” Red Son said “How are you two doing? Last I saw you were on TV trying to out cook Pigsy”

“Yeah, to be fair that was one of our more thought out plans we had…” Jin muttered.

“You know these guys?!” Mei demanded reminding the demons of the humans in the group. Red Son turned around to face his friends.

“Oh yeah we go waaaay back!” Jin laughed and patted Red Son on the back.

“We are probably the first demons to start mixing Tech and magic, these two are great to bounce ideas off with. Speaking of which, how did that improved calabash idea go? Did you managed to get pass that whole melting the victim problem?” Red Son asked and MK perked up at that last bit and saw the two metallic demons giving him an interesting look that was a mix of “don’t you dare tell him about that” and “Please don’t tell him about that”.

“Nah it kinda went belly-up we had to go back to the drawing board ya know?” Yin exclaimed and hustled Red Son away from MK in case the Monkie Kid decided to remind the two that the calabash did indeed work and he broke it when they tried to kidnap him with it.

“Pity” Red Son muttered “The idea of having an entire illusionary world that you can carry on you sounded like a fun idea. To be able to recreate places from memories or even create new locations entirely… you could have made it like a vacation spot for demons!”

“That’s a way better idea than using it as a holding cell for our enemies!” Jin moaned out loud to which everyone except MK turned to stare at him confused, Yin just face palmed.

“Anyway, you looking for anything in particular?” Yin interjected before anyone could question that statement Red Son pulled out a blue print.

“I’m looking to improve this, which needs better suspension…” he began and Yin looked at the blueprint nodded sagely, before scanning the junk yard.

“Yeah, I think I saw a quad bike over there, the engine is totally buggared but everything else is good to go!” he exclaimed Red Son grinned and trotted over with Yin leading the way. Jin watched the two go before glancing back at Mei and MK who were still on guard, sword and staff in hand just in case.

“So…how’s Red Boy been lately?” the demon asked quietly.

“Huh?!” Mei spluttered.

“I mean what with the whole divorce thing going on…”

“DIVORCE!?” MK cried out before being shushed by Jin loudly, he shot a look over to where his brother and Red Son had gone. “Sorry…but divorce? Red Son said his parents were going through a rough patch not ending it entirely!”

“That’s not what we heard on the ol’ demon grapevine, DBK going the whole nine yard on it. that’s practically unheard of in our community especially royalty. If you’re a king and you didn’t like your wife you just got a consort or something…”

“What did they say about Red Son?” MK asked concerned.

“Yeah, I heard you guys saying about mixing up Monkie Kid with Monkey King” Mei asked, all three scanned the area in case Red Son was in ear shot before returning to the huddle.

“We were told that until the whole thing was sorted out Red Son now belong to Monkey King’s court, turns out they meant YOUR court” Jin explained.

“Court sounds so uptight and fancy, I prefer the word team…” MK muttered before getting back on the topic. “Wait so why did DBK do that?” he demanded to which Jin just shrugged.

“No clue…” he muttered.

“How come he never told us? Does he even know himself?” Mei wondered but Jin couldn’t answer as Red Son and Yin came back easily dragging a quad bike that looked like someone had tried to drive it through a boulder and failed.

“Hey look these are practically brand new and we can use the fourth as a spare!” he chirped happily.

“Good find mate!” Jin beamed, “Why don’t you guys stay for lunch? We’re having toad in the hole!”

MK and Mei blanched at the idea of eating roasted toads or something and the demon brothers grinned.

“Oh, come on we’ll be having some spotted dick for afters!” he chuckled Mei nearly gagged at the idea and Red Son gave a sigh.

“Relax Toad in the hole is an English dish of sausage in batter, and spotted dick is a steamed current pudding” Yin and Jin gave a groan.

“Spoil our fun why don’t you?” Yin growled.

“You know how to cook English dishes?” MK asked.

“We travelled to London during the whole industrial revolution, very informative on the top-of-the-line tech at the time and what can we say? The accent stuck!” Jin explained “you found it fun too didn’t you Red?”

“You went too?” Mei asked and Red Son crossed his arms and looked annoyed.

“He didn’t stick around like we did, not after the Spring Heel Jack incident” Yin chuckled and playfully punched Red Son’s shoulder who gave a half-hearted growl.

“In my defence it was the one time and that old bat deserved getting her eye brows singed off, ‘filthy savage’ indeed!” he grumbled “all the other spring heeled jack sightings were not me!”

Notes: I love the head canon that Yin, Jin and Red Son hang out and helped each other with their projects. Also, Spring Heel Jack was a Victorian creepy pasta of a being who could breathe fire, leap inhumanly high and vanish in an instant…sound familiar huh?

#red son #LMK Yin #lmk Jin #monkie kid mk #monkie kid red son #monkie kid mei

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ihearthes · 3 years

Photo

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x Unnamed OFC Rating: Light Smut Word Count: 3500 Inspired by: @wanderlustwaving and “The Lady or the Tiger” by Frank Stockton

His eyes dart around the bar, seeking her. She has to be here. It’s tradition. Their tradition. January 1st. Every year. Sunset. Anguilla. The Four Seasons.

Harry had booked this table nearest the bay a full year ago, confirming it in mid-June and again in early December. Sitting silently, his eyes shaded behind his sunnies, he watches the giant ball of fire as it descends into the water. Less of a sizzle than one would expect. Each sip of his Casamigos Blanco over ice is perfect. The sky lights up with oranges, reds, and yellows that are reflected on the clouds, resembling the Monet painting San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk which he had viewed in Cardiff. A second version hangs in Tokyo at Bridgestone Museum, and he had been lucky enough to see it once.

The longer he watches its descent, the more he realises that this sunset is different from the paintings he’d seen. His fingers itch for watercolours or acrylics even though he knows his amateurish strokes would never capture the beauty. Last year, the sunset had been underwhelming, the clouds obscuring rather than reflecting the colours. Their first year, he had been unable to believe what he was seeing. It had been stunning with the reach of the palette across the sky, like tendrils of smoke straining to hug the entire planet. Now he captures his journal from the extra chair, opening it’s leather binding to a blank page. Flipping back to the beginning of his journal, he finds a sketch of her leaning on the railing -- drawn from memory years after their first meeting. His mind casts backwards to the non-date that had launched this annual trip.

“Wow.” The voice belongs to a woman who steps to the railing next to him, leaning forward and twisting her head to take in the full sunset. Glancing at her, he does a double take as he recognizes her. Holy shit. She’s even more stunning in person.

“Oh, I’d give it a solid 8.5,” Harry’s calm voice is the opposite of his turbulent emotional state.

“Seriously? It’s much closer to a 9.2.”

“You’ve lost your mind. It’s worthwhile, but not a 9.2,” he scoffs, shifting his body slightly closer to hers. He turns toward her, planting a single forearm on the railing as he observes her in her floral sarong that matches her bikini top. Her hair is bundled lazily on top of her head, and her tanned feet are encased in strappy sandals. Surreptitiously, he takes in her curves while she’s examining the sunset.

Twisting her head quickly, she catches his eyes on her ass. Rather than blushing, he smiles at her instead, well aware that the dimple is doing it’s job appropriately. The live steel drum band starts a new song, and she boldly turns to him, holding out her hand. “Dance?”

He doesn’t respond verbally. Grasping her fingers, Harry wraps one arm around her waist, stepping into her and leading them in time with the music. When he twirls her rather expertly, she laughs, planting a hand on his chest and gazing up at him with what appears to be a phony bashfulness.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” she laughs.

“Clearly you’ve never seen me live on stage,” Harry smirks.

She clucks her tongue, “Oh, but I have. I said what I said, Styles.”

Looking away from her, he can’t help the smile that breaks loose. Damn, she’s got moxie. And it’s intriguing and beguiling.

“You’re here alone?” he wonders, his eyes roaming the outdoor space. It’s filled with strangers -- to him anyway.

“Tonight only. Yes.” She twirls him, and he grins at the move.

“Me too.” The soft words are spoken into her ear as he’s drawn her closer. “I like to spend the first night of the year reflecting on the previous year.”

“Isn’t that what New Year’s Eve is for?” she wonders, her voice breathy.

“Nah. That’s for drinking and celebrating with friends. Today is for reflection -- looking backwards and forwards simultaneously.”

“Planning to conquer the world this year, Mr. Styles?”

“Indeed.” Arching an eyebrow, he mimics a cartoon villain, drawing his pinky to his mouth.

She slaps at his chest, and he desperately wants to kiss her in that moment. After all, they are flirting, aren’t they?

“Are you going to offer me dinner?” she asks boldly. “And take me to your room afterwards?”

Woah. Definitely gutsy. “Depends,” he whispers as he spins them both around once more while the band winds down.

“On what?”

“On what kind of sushi you prefer.”

“Ah!” There’s a gleam in her eye that he can’t resist. She’s playful and not shy about being the seductress. Harry finds the combination heady. Waving her hand in dismissal as she turns towards his table, “I usually try whatever the newest offering is -- especially if it’s fresh from those waters.” Fingers waggle in the direction of the bay, and he wants to grasp them out of the air and wrap them protectively in his own hand.

Instead, he applauds the band before following behind her. At the table, she drags her chair from the opposite side of the small round table until she’s sat beside him. With his questioning glance, she again gestures towards the bay. “I’m not going to miss that sunset just so I can stare at your pretty face.”

Rather than sketching the sunset, he attempts to paint the current sight with words. Everything he writes seems trite: clementines, flames, majestic, radiant, blush, hearth.

Where is she? Yes, it had been a year since they had spoken, but surely she would have sent a message if she weren’t planning to join him? Why hadn’t they exchanged numbers? Followed each other on Instagram?

But he knows why. The mystery. The transcendental experience. The enchantment of meeting once a year, incognito, in this particular and magnificent place. No knowledge of each other outside of this 24 hours that belongs to them alone.

Which is ridiculous. Because he certainly knows who she is and follows her career. And he would be astonished if she didn’t also pay attention to his. A few times this last year they had coincidentally been in the same city simultaneously, and he had seriously debated trying to locate her. Contact her manager maybe. Or put out feelers that would certainly have stretched to her ears like an old-fashioned game of Chinese Whispers (which of course isn’t what he should call the game now; it’s racist). The message, though, would have been garbled but sufficient for them to meet up.

Every time, he refrained. Their unspoken commitment was to this place and this one day a year. Now he regrets not making contact. Had she decided that one day a year wasn’t worth the effort? Was she even now canoodling with someone else? There hadn’t been rumours of any recent love affairs on her end, and he snatches his phone anxiously to search her name just in case she connected with someone during the last week.

Picking up his now-empty glass of tequila as he scrolls through his phone, Harry draws an ice cube into his mouth, swirling it on his tongue to relish every tiny bit of the liquor there. The burn has vanished as it’s taken him nearly an hour to drink one tequila. No record of any new beaus. Maybe he should follow her now on social media? DM her? What would he do if she didn’t show? How much longer should he wait?

“Oh yum! This roll is even better than last year’s.” She proclaims as she rushes to grasp the last bite of the Ceviche Roll.

“Hey! That was mine!” Harry protests, laughing as she stuffs the full piece in her mouth.

“Order more,” she mumbles around the rice, fish, and seaweed flavored with citrus and cilantro.

“Nah, I’ve got a different appetite now,” he murmurs, watching her lips as she chews the sushi.

Freezing, her eyes rush to his, and she slowly finishes the sushi she’s been eating, swallowing slowly. He wishes that she would move her chair to his side of the table like she had the previous year. This time, they’re seated on opposite sides of the table, but at an angle where both can watch the setting sun.

“What?” Her look has made him nervous. “You’re not going to tell me you’re seeing someone, are you?”

Her hair twirls as she shakes her head. “No. Broke up with him last week in anticipation of this.”

Having sipped his tequila, Harry chokes at her words. Coughing, he grasps the table with both hands. Holy fuck. She didn’t really expect him to --

“Kidding!” Her giggle lights up her eyes, bringing a light blush to her face. She’s truly stunning. Maybe even more than last year.

When her foot, sans sandal, caresses his calf under the table, he knows that the night is going to be filled with sex. Fun, hot, brilliant sex that will last most of the night. Hmm...perhaps it would be best to fortify himself for their escapades. Raising his hand, he flags down the server.

“Sir?”

“Another Ceviche Roll, por favor. Plus a bottle of Casamigos.” He pauses as her foot makes its way further up his leg, and he wonders if she’s going to slide under the table completely. “Send it to my room, please.” Voice catching as her toes make contact with his crotch, he demands, “Put it all on my tab please. I’ll settle up later.”

With a nod of agreement, the server disappears. Quickly Harry rises, adjusting his slacks as he glances around the room.

“Let’s go,” his voice rumbles.

“But H -- the sunset,” she whines.

“My room has the same view,” he insists, holding out his hand which she grasps. Gracefully sliding her foot back into her sandal, she rises and glides behind him towards the elevator.

His stomach rumbles at the thought of eating, and he debates ordering food. The sushi at the sunset lounge is always fresh. In the past, though, they’ve enjoyed the dishes together, trying new ones every year. Dejected, he places his glass harshly on the table, his disappointment at her absence radiating across his psyche like the colours of the sunset.

“I would say it’s a solid 8.5,” her voice sounds from over his shoulder, and he twists in surprise. Like the sunset beckons the stars, she summons happiness to his soul. He scrambles to rise, kissing her on both cheeks, his lips lingering each time. Not too long, though, in case others are watching and photographing. Which he always assumes these days. Fans. Paps. No privacy exists anywhere.

“Hi,” he whispers, grateful for her presence, but unable to say the words that would tell her how worried he’s been. That might reveal too much of his emotions. And his heart.

Fuck. When had his heart gotten involved? And why hadn’t he realised before this particular moment?

“You agree?” she smiles, gesturing to the sunset.

“I would say it’s a 9 or maybe even a 9.2,” Harry smiles, his dimple making an appearance to rival the sunset in front of them.

“You finished your drink,” she nods at his empty glass.

“I started early.” It’s a lame excuse, and he knows it.

His annual partner tilts her head in his direction. “Or maybe I’m late?”

Not knowing how to respond, Harry waits, his fingers playing with the coaster underneath his drink, spinning it around, the glass slowly rotating with the cardboard circle with the restaurant’s name on it.

“I debated,” she whispers, “unsure if I should…”

The server appears, a smile on his face. His white trousers and white shirt are complemented by a blue scarf at his neck, his accent strong.

“What can I get you?”

Harry notices the man’s gaze on his companion’s breasts which draws his own attention to the bosom swelling around the buttons of her frock, which he just now notices has sunflowers across the lower half of the skirt. Was that on purpose?

When she exchanges a knowing glance with Harry and smoothes the fabric over her legs, it becomes clear that she knows exactly what she was doing by choosing this dress.

He shifts in his seat.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” she announces.

Harry reminds the server, “Two Casamigos on the rocks please. And your newest sushi roll with light brown rice please. Thanks.”

Nodding, his date agrees to the order, and he’s relieved that at least the basics haven’t changed in the last year.

“You were saying?” he prompts as the steward moves away from them.

“Oh,” she blushes, her cheeks tinging slightly pink. “I just...wasn’t sure…” She swallows, her head down before she makes eye contact with him, “that this was a good idea.”

Taken aback, Harry settles his bum more deeply in his chair, feeling blindsided by the comment, wishing he had his tequila to soothe him in this moment. “I see,” he mumbles.

“Harry --” she begins, and he waves a hand in her direction.

“It’s just casual,” he unceremoniously argues, “right?” But his heart clutches at the phrasing.

Her eyes drop to her lap where her hands are entwined. “Yes. I guess.” Her whisper makes him sweat. Fuck. Had she decided this was it? The last time? “It’s a pretty sunset,” she adds.

“Absolutely,” he concurs, anxious at what else she might say. Silence descends on the table much faster than the stars appear in the sky above them. Should he be vulnerable? Tell her how he feels? What he’s thinking?

This year’s live steel drum band begins a new song, and without pause, she rises, holding her hand out for him to grasp. Grateful for the reprieve, he joins her in their corner of the outdoor restaurant, placing one hand on her waist as she rests her head on his chest. Together, they sway, and his mind wanders.

“I need another lime!” she shrieks gleefully, holding the bottle of tequila in her hand. Harry shakes his head from his position flat on the bed. They are going to need clean sheets before they sleep tonight. Maybe they will go to her room for actual sleep?

What the fuck is he thinking? As if they had actually slept during their rendezvous in the previous two years.

“Here. Hold this,” she laughs, thrusting a lime towards Harry to place in his mouth, pulp out.

“Mhm. Me next,” he mumbles just before his teeth wrap around the green rind.

“You bet,” she giggles. Settling herself on the bed as she straddles him, her soft parts landing on his cock encased in its bright green briefs. She slides down his legs and leans forward, holding the bottle of tequila out to the side. “Mmmmm.” Licking a stripe up from the base of his underpants to his navel, she sprinkles salt there before tilting the bottle of Casamigos and allowing a shot of tequila to land in his taut navel. He’d worked hard on his abs the last couple of months, knowing that he would be lying here with her. They’ve got definition that most blokes only dream of.

Quickly, her tongue captures the salt before she sucks the tequila from his belly and shifts forward to suck the lime that’s in his mouth. Fuck. If he hadn’t been hard before they started this game, he’s certainly got a hammer between his legs now.

As he releases the lime for her, she grips it in her teeth, leaning backwards in her bra and panties, her core now on his chest, and he can’t resist reaching out with a single finger and tracing a pattern over the treasure he knows is underneath.

“You waxed for me this year,” he comments.

“No,” she protests, “I waxed for me this year. You give great oral, and I wanted nothing to get in the way. It’s been far too long since my pussy has been properly eaten.”

“Oh?” Harry’s eyebrow raises, as he knows a couple of people who she dated during the previous year.

“Yep. I would say,” she smiles, leaning down to capture his mouth in a kiss, her lips hovering just above his, “about exactly a year.”

“Hey…” he begins as they finish their silent dance just as their drinks arrive along with the plate of sushi, but he’s interrupted.

“Here are your drinks. Our newest sushi roll is the Hot Lover,” which makes Harry cringe and shift again in his seat. “It’s spicy tuna, shrimp tempura, and avocado wrapped in soybean paper.”

As he places the food in front of them, Harry smiles sadly and nods as the gentleman fades away into the restaurant, like the sunset has drifted into the ocean.

“You were going to say something?” she asks, and he loses all of his courage.

Shaking his head, he grasps a piece of the sushi roll between his fingers, sliding it onto his tongue.

“Not bad,” he comments as he chews, trying to tuck the food in his cheek so he’s not rude.

“It’s really not got a lot of flavour,” she grins as she mimics his eating habit. “Kind of boring.”

Did she mean their relationship? Was this one of those double-entendres? Swallowing the fish and rice concoction, he sips his tequila as the sushi sticks in his throat. For some reason, he wants to cry. It makes no sense, but the tears come unbidden to his eyes. Fuck. Looking away, he sips more of his drink as he watches the remnants of the sunset fade away, blinking furiously.

“I wanted to call you when we were both in New York this year,” he comments softly.

Her fingers pause halfway to her mouth, the soybean-paper-wrapped piece of sushi hovering near her lips. Harry watches as she debates how to respond to his comment, finally placing the fish on her tongue and chewing slowly. Unable to draw his eyes from her mouth, he unapologetically watches as she savors the restaurant’s latest speciality. Eyes closed, she moans. Her hands clutch the table on either side of her, and Harry feels his mouth go dry.

Once she devours the food, she sips her tequila on the rocks, and he can visualize her tongue swirling the liquid around as she either tries to clear the flavour of the fish or fully taste the liquor. After all, her tongue has done that same move to his most favored body part. When she finishes, she makes eye contact with him, her hands resting on either side of her plate, fingers curled. Taking a deep breath, she straightens her fingers flat without breaking eye contact. Fuck. He’s sweating.

“Truth be told, Harry -- I desperately wanted to call you when we were both in Edinburgh that time.”

“Why didn’t you?” His words are faster than his brain, and he immediately wishes he could draw back the question.

“You know why,” she replies, and he nods because he does indeed know all of the reasons. “The sunset --” Her attention is drawn to the colours in the sky, “is lovely, don’t you think?”

“Honestly,” he admits, “I would say this is the best one of all of the times we’ve sat here together.” The words make him cringe. He wants to keep things light, but something about the moment prevents fluff. It feels momentous. Overwhelming.

He watches as her eyes stray from his to the sky before they tear up and she nods in agreement. “Yes, Harry. I would say this is the most breathtaking of the sunsets we’ve seen.”

Did that mean that this would be the last one? Neither of them is getting younger. Sooner or later, one of them will meet “the one”. And then where will the other be? Stuck on an island with a sunset alone? Fuck. He doesn’t want to be that person. But he truly doesn’t want that for her either.

“It’s a sensational sunset,” Harry pleads, his eyes not leaving her face, not straying to the glorious colours, not denying that they have some chemistry together. Why hadn’t he made a play for her before now? Was a hookup enough? Would he be happy if this is the last one?

“Harry,” she sighs, sipping her drink again. “I wonder ---”

The band starts a new song, and he shakes off the sound, willing her to continue. A group at the table behind them sings ‘Happy Birthday’ while another table nearby bursts into laughter and somewhere a server drops a tray of glasses, the shattering drawing applause from a few assholes close to the debacle. Harry ignores all of it.

“Yes? Go on,” he encourages.

“Maybe…” she bites her lip, looking away from him towards the sunset.

“Yes?” His throat is dry, but he doesn’t reach for his tequila or his glass of ice water. Instead, his gaze remains riveted on her.

“Do you think that perhaps we could…”

His breath catches in his throat. What would she say? Would she ask for some random sex act? Cancel their relationship permanently? Or possibly -- miraculously -- suggest that they celebrate more sunsets together instead of just once a year. He holds his breath, waiting impatiently.

“I mean, it would probably be best if we...”

A/N: Reblogs are love, my readers. I appreciate the likes, but reblogs help others find the story and, quite frankly, encourage me to continue publishing here.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #my writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry fanfiction #original writing #harry styles imagine

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willowbird · 3 years

Note

For the prompt thing: Andrew/Neil, trope: sickness/injury, location: violently orange yacht. Have fun! Thanks =)

Ooh definitely!

Since no AU was specified I made it kinda intentionally ambiguous.

Also, so you know, I 100% sat down to write this as a cutesy seasick/comfort w/teasing sorta fic. Then, idk, i got a lil bloodthirsty. Just a little bit, though.

Warning for mentions of blood.

---

"Are you really going to hide down here for the whole time?" Kevin's voice was both tired and annoyed, and just for that Andrew didn't even bother to acknowledge his presence, let alone his words.

Instead, he pointedly turned the page in his book as if there was no one about to bother him at all. They had been out on the water for a whole six hours. Andrew had watched the shoreline get smaller and smaller as they pulled away and when it was just a fine sketch of a line along the horizon he'd gone investigating. Which was how he'd found this hidden little nook in the storage hull or whatever the big room of supplies was in the belly of the boat.

The monstrosity was technically a yacht. Which, by definition, is a pleasure liner - a boat intended for entertainment. This "yacht" was big enough to not only carry but fully house and supply a contingent of college athletes. It was suspiciously fortified and had enough supplies stockpiled away that Andrew was beginning to wonder if he hadn't been kidnapped because it seemed just a little bit excessive for a "weekend away".

Personally, he didn't think his problems were going to go away or even be at all eased by an attempted escape via ugly boat. But he wasn't the only one with those problems. He wasn't the only one hurting. And after almost a year... well, he would grudgingly tag along, but he didn't have to participate.

The damn thing was also the most grotesque shade of claw-your-eyes-out dayglow orange that Andrew had ever seen. Which honestly was one of the reasons he'd already gone inside, as of by hiding in the deepest, darkest corner of the vessel he'd save himself a migraine.

"And Andrew? The Lady Fox has luxury suites for each of us. You can't even hide in your room? You choose to come... here?" Out of the corner of his eye, Andrew saw Kevin give his choice of hideaways a disparaging look.

Without taking his eyes from the page, Andrew lifted one hand and offered Kevin his one-fingered opinion.

The next thing he heard was Kevin's annoyed scoff, followed by his retreating footsteps. Satisfied, Andrew snuggled down a little bit deeper into the conveniently-placed hammock he'd found already strung up when he initially explored the place. The book he was reading had a bit of a slow start, but at least three of the side-characters were interesting enough to carry him through until the plot picked up.

Except, he only got two more pages along when he heard a sudden and quite ominous thump that was accompanied by a muffled groan. The book in his hand was instantly replaced with one of the knives he kept tucked in the armbands he was never without. Some people might call Andrew paranoid for bringing weapons onto a boat where he was surrounded only by close friends and family, with a literal ocean between them and harm. Those people would probably be dead right now, gutted in their sleep by a murderous stowaway. Or maybe that thump was one of his family, being murdered by the murderous stowaway.

Maybe it was Kevin.

That thought put a spike of fear in his heart, but right in its wake came a surge of deep rage.

No. He would not allow it. He had already lost... Enough had happened. He refused to let Kevin be hurt as well.

Andrew got out of the hammock as soundlessly and gracefully as possible, searching the shadows of the only half-lit cavernous space as he inched toward the source of the sound. He kept the blade poised to attack with one hand and pulled out his cell phone with the other. Two thumb-swipes later the had the flashlight enabled.

It wasn't Kevin. Nope. Definitely not Kevin.

Not-Kevin was crumpled in a heap in front of a stack of supply crates that it looked like he'd rolled off of, thus causing the thump Andrew had heard. The groan of pain, however, was clearly not from the fall. Or, well, not just from the fall.

"Who are you?" Andrew demanded, shining the light right on the person's face. They looked like a guy, probably. Short-ish hair and made up of more angles than curves - though it was really hard to tell more than that because the blood-soaked clothes were a little bit distracting.

The injured man(?) on the floor let out a choked, broken sound that Andrew belatedly realized was a laugh. It was so rasped and mangled, he'd almost thought the stowaway was about to launch into their death-throes. Judging by the bloodstains and way the person shook and swayed precariously while trying to push up to their hands and knees, that actually might not have been that far off a guess.

Then the stowaway, the person, the man, said, "Nothing."

Andrew froze. "What did you say?"

"You asked who I was," the man said, and Andrew was sure it was a man now. Moreover, the rough edges around his voice may have been tight with pain and possibly disuse, but even without Andrew's near-perfect memory he would have knows the sharp slashes of that voice anywhere.

The man looked up and in the white glow of Andrew's phone light there was no mistaking how immeasurably blue his eyes were. Like the sky painted from an artist's favorite memory. Like the hint of eternity in a crystal sphere.

Neil smiled. His face was dotted with dried blood and marked with new scars, but the expression still somehow turned the whole world on its head to make it a softer, warmer, safer place.

Andrew wasn't sure what hit the ground first, his phone, his knife, or his knees as he skidded to the floor beside Neil, reaching for him. "Neil... Neil. Fuck. The blood. It's yours? FUCK!" He was babbling, but his own voice was distant to his ears as he touched Neil for the first time in almost a year, as he gathered him close and searched for the source of all that blood.

Shaky hands reached for him and Andrew didn't even think about batting them away. He leaned into their touch even as he turned his face toward the stairs and raised his voice to a shout: "KEVIN! AARON! SOMEONE! NOW!"

"H-hey now, Andrew. Andrew, shh, it's okay. I'm okay, it's okay. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant to be away this long."

"Shut up with your fucking 'sorry's Neil, I don't want your fucking 'sorry' - I want you here and alive and not dying in my goddamn arms I am NOT doing this with you, do you hear me junkie?"

Andrew felt like his entire system was in overdrive, his mind moving too fast and his nerve ending firing off in matching cylinders. They looked for Neil for months. And when they finally got a breakthrough via that fucking miserable twat Jean Moreau, it was only to find out that Neil was likely dead.

Those hands cupped his face, and even though they trembled against his cheeks he still touched Andrew like he was holding something incredibly precious. Something that needed care and protection lest it drop or be crushed.

"I promise, Drew. I did not drag myself halfway back around the world just to die in your arms."

"Do not even attempt to give me that, Neil. That is exactly the kind of dramatic shit you would do."

"Nah," Neil protested with a rough laugh. "Definitely more Aaron's thing. He's such a petty bitch."

"Fuck you," Andrew spat out, but a bubble of what might have bene a laugh caught in his chest. There were running footsteps coming their way, thundering down the steps and into the room.

"Andrew?! Andrew what-- oh my God. Oh my God. AARON GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!" Kevin was still shouting as he came to land beside the two of them, and Andrew almost pulled another knife and stabbed him in the fucking eye as he reached for Neil.

In fact, he didn't even realize he had drawn a knife until Kevin jerked back so suddenly he fell on his ass.

"Jesus! Andrew it's just me. He is covered in blood he needs a hospital!"

"It's mostly not mine," Neil chimed in as Andrew struggled to rein in the half-crazed beast that had taken over the arm not holding Neil. The monster inside him was in fits, and its growl was rumbling in Andrew's throat - kept in check only by the slow stroking of Neil's fingers down his jaw.

"Mostly not yours," Kevin echoed, and even through the haze of Andrew's protective rage, he could hear how dumbfounded the other man was.

"Mhm. And I stitched myself up already."

"Stitched yourself up," said Kevin. Then he looked toward the stairs and bellowed: "AARON!"

Neil sighed and the exasperation in that sound was so fucking familiar that it knocked the beast far enough off its temper for Andrew to take control again. He took a slow breath, then another. When Neil looked up at him again, Andrew asked, "Why? How?"

Neil grimaced. The expression must have been painful, Andrew realized as he watched him - because now that he was really looking he could tell that those new scars on his face were less 'scars' and more 'barely healed torture wounds'.

All Neil said was, "It's a long story."

As Aaron finally came half-falling down the steps on wobbly sea-legs, Andrew decided he would leave it be - for now.

The important thing was that Neil was here, Neil was alive, and nothing - fucking nothing - was going to take him away again.

#asks #AFTG prompts #aftg fanfic #aftg ficlet #andreil #reunion fic #mentions of blood #andrew minyard #neil josten #i have no idea what happened dont ask me lol #ask neil - hes the troublemaker #protective andrew minyard #hurt neil josten

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quickspinner · 3 years

Text

Month of Miracles - Dressing Up Part 2

Find the prompt list here!

Marinette tapped her pencil on the small stack of sketches and sighed. She felt dissatisfied with them, but that was nothing new. She was dissatisfied with almost everything she made these days, so why should this be any different?

Her thoughts drifted back to Luka for the hundredth time. She was going to have to face him again. He was expecting her and she really did need to source some materials from the wardrobe he was offering.

She might be able to put it off a day, though, she mused. Maybe it would be better to give him some space, anyway. She had just rejected him, after all. That had to sting, no matter how chill he acted about it. Marinette would be doing him a favor, staying away for a day. She could go shopping and see what she could get in the way of basic materials first. That was a perfectly plausible excuse.

Coward, she thought sourly at herself, and sighed, dropping her head into her arms.

It would be easier if she didn’t like him so much. Marinette turned her head and looked at her phone where it lay on the table in its cheerful pink case. She could text him, but...would that be weird? People here didn’t seem to do that, they just...popped up. He’d told her just to show up whenever, but…

I don’t have his number, she realized suddenly. How funny was that? All the times they’d talked, and they’d never even traded numbers.

She wouldn’t even be able to text him when she went back to the city. The thought made her ache, but she pushed it aside. That was the kind of problem you could push off for later, she thought as she packed up her things. Not like making out with a guy you were probably never going to see again once the week was out. Which was a real, actual problem that should be avoided.

Right?

Marinette groaned, and grabbed Gina’s car keys, marching out of the door. She had a job to do, and surely she was still professional enough to manage that much.

She had herself mostly together by the time she pulled into the Couffaine farm. The yard wasn’t empty when she pulled in, to her mild surprise.

“Ahoy, Marinette!” Anarka called, waving at her, and Marinette, feeling she should be polite, got her kit out of the car and walked over to where Anarka was working. Ankara was unloading some small saplings from the back of a pickup truck that looked a lot like Luka’s, only about twenty years older. “For a moment there, I fergot it was you and not yer grandma pulling up,” Anarka chuckled as Marinette approached. “Here t’see Luka, I expect? He said ye were comin’ by.”

“Yes,” Marinette tried to smile, and hoped she didn’t blush too hard at Luka’s name. Yes, hi, I kissed your son this morning and broke his heart, so this isn’t awkward at all. Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?

“He’s been working like a demon all day,” Anarka commented, lifting another tree down with a grunt. “He was drivin’ me crazy, bein’ so efficient, and I about bit his head off.” She glanced at Marinette, who tried hard not to look guilty. “Told him to make himself scarce for a bit. I think he went t’ take a shower, but he should be done by now.”

“Oh,” Marinette said lamely, trying very hard not to think of accidentally walking in on a freshly showered and not entirely dressed Luka. Maybe awkward small talk was for the best. “He, um. He said you were done for the year?”

“Aye, closed to the public fer the year,” Anarka smiled. “Though o’ course if there was anyone in town that needed anythin’ we’d open right back up. Nah, the public part of business is done for the year. Now it’s just all the work nobody sees.” She turned away from Marinette for a moment, walking over to the rail fence that separated the rows of trees. Marinette followed, unsure what else to do, her kit bumping against her knees as she carefully skirted the saplings.

“Never really thought I’d end up in a place like this,” Anarka said, leaning her elbows against the fence rails. “There’s a kinda poetry t’ it, though. Renewal. Rebirth. The old makin’ way for the young.” She winked at Marinette, and then went on. “I might not even be here by the time these trees are big enough t’ cut. Got a wandering foot, y’know, and it’ll take seven or eight years minimum for these to get the size where anyone would even consider cutting ‘em. Who’s to say I won’t be off to some new adventure by then? But they’ll still be here, growing, because I planted them. Endings, beginnings. Sometimes it’s hard to tell one apart from the other, aye?”

Marinette made a noise in reply automatically, but Anarka’s musings had put her thoughts on another track, and she barely heard the last bit.

Anarka eyed her sidelong for a moment, and then sighed and shoved herself off the fence, turning to smile at Marinette with her hand on her hips. “Out with it, lass, what’s on yer mind?”

Marinette blushed, snapping back to the present. “Nothing. It’s none of my business.”

“Maybe not,” Anarka shrugged. “Ye can still ask, though. If I don’t want to tell ye, I just won’t.”

Marinette shifted her weight and adjusted her grip on the handle of her kit, still uncomfortable, but...“Were you...disappointed?” she asked in a low voice. “When Luka gave up his career?”

Anarka laughed loud enough that it echoed back to them. “Nah, lass, I was proud . Luka was miserable, livin’ that life. It takes guts to admit that and come home, ‘specially when everyone around you is telling you how lucky ye are, having a talent and a chance like that. Like somehow you owe some cosmic debt and if ye don’t stick it out, yer wastin’ somethin’. Like success is a cookie cutter and ye have to slice away bits of yerself to make it fit.” She shook her head. “It’s not how I raised my kids. I taught them to take chances, and I taught them not to let fear make their decisions—and I also taught them that there’s no shame in what the world likes to call failure. There’s no shame in trying out the different shapes of success until you find one that fits, instead o’ tryin’ t’ force yerself into the one kind.”

Marinette blinked at her, surprised at the way her expression softened as she spoke.

Anarka was silent a moment and then sighed. “Still. You do your best to teach them, but you never know whether the lesson’s gonna stick. So when I think of the courage it took for Luka to walk away, to look so-called failure in the face and turn it into just another lesson learned, to find a way to believe that he’s still his father’s son even if he doesn’t follow in the old man’s footsteps—I’m so proud I could burst.” Marinette started slightly as Anarka suddenly stepped forward and put a surprisingly gentle hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “Luka’s never needed to prove his talent to me, lass. He’s still finding his feet again, and that’s okay. When he’s ready, he’ll make success fit him instead of the other way around, I’ve no doubt of that.” She squeezed Marinette’s shoulder, and looked at Marinette for a long moment. Marinette swallowed nervously, but couldn’t think of anything to say.

Ankara let her hand drop and jerked her head towards the house. “Go on now, we’ve both got things to be doing. Go straight on in, he’ll be expecting you.” She turned back to her young trees, and Marinette, clearly dismissed, turned towards the house, butterflies surging back to life in her stomach. She was being stupid, she told herself. Luka had accepted her rejection gracefully, and tried so hard to make her comfortable. Marinette was sure she’d hurt his feelings if she suddenly got awkward about being around him, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

Marinette sneaked a glance back towards Anarka, and then despite what she had been told, she knocked as loudly as she could. She lingered on the doorstep as long as she dared (which wasn’t very long, knowing that Anarka could see her not going on in), and let herself into the house. She could hear guitar music even before she got the creaky old door open, and once inside, she followed it to the great room. Luka was perched on the same fragile-looking chair as before, with an acoustic in his hands this time. He looked up as she entered, and smiled, laying his hand flat against the strings. His hair was damp, and his t-shirt sticking to him a little bit. He couldn’t have been out of the shower long and Marinette was kind of glad she’d stopped to talk to Anarka.

Luka stood up and put the guitar in a stand, and Marinette realized she hadn’t even said hi, but it seemed too late now. “I was starting to think Mom was going to talk your ear off before you made it up here,” Luka teased gently as he straightened.

“Oh, we were just, um—” Marinette winced. “Talking.” She was so lame, ugh.

“I saw through the window,” Luka grinned. “Figured you’d get here when you were ready. The stuff’s all in the attic, so…” He gestured towards the stairs, and then reached for her kit. “Can I get that for you?”

Too flustered to object politely, Marinette let him take it, and then followed him. She should say something, she thought, but she couldn’t think of anything.

She sighed mournfully as they climbed the stairs. Part of her ached for what he was offering—but she was pretty sure that same part wouldn’t want to let him go, and that was just...and really, she was such a disaster, and he was amazing, and he deserved so much better than someone who was so mixed up and wishy-washy. Why did they have to meet like this? Would it have been different if they met before?

Except before, she was with Adrien, too dazzled and in love to even see anyone else, and Luka had been a rock star, surrounded by all the glamorous women he could possibly want, and she had never really stood out, as Audrey loved to remind her. She just didn’t have Adrien’s celebrity magnetism, nor Audrey’s force of personality, so she was always overlooked. It was no wonder that nobody ever really saw her until she came here.

“Well, here we are,” Luka’s voice broke into her thoughts. He was reaching up to grab a hanging cord.

Marinette shook her head and slapped her cheeks as Luka pulled the attic ladder down and ascended it. None of this was actually solving the problem at hand. She needed to keep her mind on the costumes. Marinette had sketched out some ideas at home, thinking she could probably get some sheets to use as a base, and then maybe she could source some of the less expensive things from Luka’s old wardrobe for embellishments on the fancier things like the angels, or for the snaps and things. There was a single big box store in town, actually; the selection would be limited but surely she could find some things there too. This project was ridiculously easy, when it came down to it. She had a plan that would work, and it was all simple sewing, stuff she could do in her sleep. No sweat.

So why were her hands shaking?

She lifted her hands and watched them tremble before her eyes. She felt her breath getting short.

She started when a large hand closed over both of hers. “Marinette.” She looked up, and Luka was there, framed against the light coming down from the attic. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” she said, a little too quickly, with a smile that was a little too wide. “Just, hoping there will be some stuff I can use.”

Luka smiled. “It’ll be fine. Come on up.” He shifted his hold to just one of her hands and drew her up the narrow stairs after him.

He let go of her hand once she was up, and Marinette looked around in mild surprise. The attic was cleaner than she expected. Cluttered, like the rest of the house, and full of things in piles and stacked, sometimes draped in sheets, but she didn’t encounter the dust she had expected, and the small, high windows were clean and let in plenty of light. She wondered if they were just carting things in and out of here so often that they kept it clean, or if they used the space for more than storage. There was a clear path to where they needed to be, and she followed Luka across the creaking floor.

Marinette waited nervously as he whisked the protective sheets off two racks of clothes. Marinette had to blink as the light hit the clothes; there were metal accents and rhinestones and metallic fabrics everywhere, and she was unprepared for the amount of light they threw back in her eyes.

“There it is,” Luka sighed, folding his arms as he sat on a trunk a short distance away. “Every bedazzled scrap of it.”

She had to giggle a little at that. Luke Stone had certainly favored ostentation, though that was almost unavoidable when you played with Jagged Stone.

Still, they didn’t have to, she thought, as she walked up and began mechanically sliding looks along the rack to have a look. They could have played up his simplicity. They could have made him stand out by contrast, rather than by imitation. She wondered if they were deliberately setting up an implied rivalry between father and son with their choices, or if they just hadn’t thought a rock star could be simple. Costume design wasn’t exactly the same thing as fashion design, but there was enough overlap that—

Marinette brought her thoughts back to the present, and swallowed as she stepped back again, suddenly overwhelmed. She turned away and opened her kit slowly, taking out the stack of drawings she’d left on top, suddenly profoundly dissatisfied with them. Rose and the kids expected her to work magic with this stuff, and all she had was a pile of generic toga-style costumes.

Simple. Uninspired. Pedestrian.

Her gut began to churn.

Marinette glanced at Luka nervously, and then jerked her gaze quickly away, but of course he caught it.

“I don’t have to be here if it makes you uncomfortable,” he said quietly. “I can go back downstairs and you can just call me if you need help with anything.”

That was so far from her thoughts that it gave her pause. “You...don’t make me uncomfortable,” she said, and looked back at him with a sad smile. “You never have. You’ve been...really wonderful, Luka, now matter how weird things got. I am uncomfortable, but it’s not about you.” Taking a breath, Marinette stepped back to the rack and ran her fingers down the fabric in front of her in a practiced motion, taking in the composition and the drape almost without conscious thought.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Luka asked quietly.

Marinette thought about that for a moment, and then turned back to the garments on the rack. “Not tonight.” She couldn’t afford to get worked up now, she had to figure something out. She...she had to do something, she couldn’t just…

“Okay.” Luka said simply, and Marinette swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes shut. He was so understanding, but—what was she going to do? She couldn’t just drape the kids in sheets and call it a day, they deserved so much better than that. She had to figure something out, she had to—She put both hands in her hair and pulled it, trying to focus on the clothes in front of her, but her eyes stung. She squeezed them shut tight and held her breath, trying to keep it together.

Luka’s hands closed on her shoulders from behind, squeezing lightly, and Marinette turned to him in a rush, burying her face in his chest.

“Marinette, look at me,” he said, pushing her shoulders back gently and taking her face in his hands. “Just breathe, and look at me.”

Marinette stared up into his blue eyes, reflecting calm and assurance while all that fluttered in her chest was panic and self-doubt.

“Slow down,” he said emphatically. “It’s okay.”

“But I—” she began, and he shook his head.

“Marinette. There’s no failure here. Anything you put together will be better than moldy, moth-eaten rags. Without your help we’d all be frantically cutting armholes in pillowcases or something. No matter what you do, Rose will be ecstatic.” He smiled encouragingly at her. “These are the lowest possible stakes. You can’t screw up, so just have fun with it.”

Marinette turned her head out of his hands, looking at the designer, rock star wardrobe laid out for her to use. “But—”

Luka reached over and grabbed her fabric scissors out of her kit. He grabbed a shirt at random off the rack, and cut it in half in a ragged line. Marinette stared as he offered her the scissors back. “That’s how little I care about this stuff,” he grinned.

Marinette’s mouth closed abruptly and she glared at him, and would have snatched the scissors from them if they hadn’t been—well, scissors. Well-sharpened fabric scissors at that. Instead she took them with the appropriate amount of care even as she narrowed her eyes at him. “I might have needed that,” she told him, kicking his foot lightly.

“I have faith,” Luka grinned wider. “You’ll manage.”

She huffed and turned back to the garments, and looked at the second rack next to her. Luka backed away, leaning his elbows on an old dresser as he watched her.

Marinette studied the racks, and suddenly she pulled out her phone, swiping to the group photo she’d taken at the library today. She looked over the children there, at their dyed hair and punk haircuts and all-black outfits interspersed with riots of color, and began to smile a bit. “Okay,” she muttered, picking up a leather garment studded with rhinestones. “I guess this Christmas is about to get a little bit rock ‘n roll.”

Luka raised his eyebrows slightly.

Marinette barely noticed him, eyes lighting up as her mind began racing. She picked up the stack of designs she had done earlier and crumpled them absently in her hands. “I need my sketchbook,” she muttered.

“I’ll get it,” Luka said, shoving off the dresser and crossing the room. “Where?”

“I left it in my car. On the passenger seat, I think.”

Luka clattered down the stairs and out of the front door to grab Marinette’s sketchbook. Halfway back up the stairs he hesitated, and ducked into his room to grab his own notebook. Marinette practically snatched the book out of his hand, digging in her kit for her pencils, and Luka grinned, sitting back on the trunk again and resting his notebook on his knee.

He watched her, fascinated, as her focus narrowed to her task, and she began sketching, making notes and separating out items from the stacks of clothing he never thought he’d look at again. Luka began scribbling notes to himself as well, just...idle thoughts, the web of concepts and ideas that eventually came together to make a song, but he kept looking up to watch her, intrigued by her creative process. She muttered something to herself or tossed something aside with more vehemence than usual and he grinned.

Slowly, the attic transformed, suddenly strewn with gaudy clothes. Several distinct heaps were forming. Every once in a while Marinette would stop, and go back to her sketchbook, scratching in new details or ideas, or crossing something out with a sigh.

He jumped slightly, though, when she tossed the book aside with a little scream, and buried her face in her hands. “I’m such an idiot,” she muttered. “Why didn’t I think of that? It’s never going to hold up with that kind of weight, I’m so stupid —”

“Whoa,” Luka said, a little sharply than he’d meant to, putting his notebook aside and getting up quickly to go to her. “Hey, hey, hey, slow down. What’s wrong?”

“I just—I should have accounted for this, and I didn’t, and now I have to change it—”

“Okay, so change it,” Luka said, putting his hands on her shoulders again to make her look at him. Marinette looked at him like he had two heads, and he almost laughed at her. “Marinette, you’re an artist, not a machine. It’s okay to backtrack and change your mind.” He smiled at her, hoping he looked reassuring and not enchanted. “I know every artist is different and music isn’t the same as fashion, but for me…” he shrugged. “Success comes from a series of small failures. You try something, and it mostly works, but something isn’t quite right, so you make a change and try again. That’s not something to be ashamed of or upset about. If you’re that frustrated, we could take a break. Or if you want to rework it some and come back tomorrow, that’s fine too. I’m not going anywhere.”

Marinette stared at him for a minute, her mouth working soundlessly. She looked down at the sketchbook in her hands, and then back up at him.

“Do you want to take a break?” Luka asked her.

“I...no,” she said. “It’s...it’s not that big of a deal, I’m pretty sure I can fix it if I...um—”

“Okay,” he said simply, giving her shoulders a little squeeze. He really wanted to hug her, to hold her tight and tell her how amazing he found her, how entranced he was watching her work, how alive she looked when she was creating, but—he couldn’t, so he squeezed her shoulders and then let his hands fall. “No need to explain it, I trust you.” He glanced down at the book, and then looked away. “Sorry, I’m not trying to peek, but that—that looks really badass.” He couldn’t help looking again, and, blushing, Marinette turned the book so he could see. His smile grew as he looked at it. “That’s amazing, Marinette, what are you worrying about? If it looks half this cool in real life we’re going to have to have someone standing by to give Rose oxygen.”

Marinette giggled, and looked back down at it herself. “You really think so?” she murmured, with a small smile that made his heart skip. Just when he thought she couldn’t get any sweeter.

“I definitely think so,” Luka told her, backing away. He sat down on the floor this time, leaning back against the trunk. He groped behind him blindly for his notebook and nearly knocked it off the far side of the trunk.

Marinette gave a pleased hum, and then took a deep breath before her brows furrowed into her concentration face. Luka drew his knees up and leaned one elbow on them, smiling like the fool he was.

There were a few more frustrated groans, but no more spirals, and Luka kept quietly in his place even as piles of fabric grew around him. Finally she sat back and sighed. “I think that’s everything I’m going to need.”

“Cool.” Luka looked up from his notebook and smiled.

“I’m so sorry about the mess,” Marinette gasped, looking around as if she had only just now realized the chaos she had created. “I can help you clean it up—”

Luka cut her off with a laugh. “You’re welcome to,” he chuckled, “but there’s really no need. Clutter is a way of life around here. Trust me, the only reason they were so organized to begin with is because they were delivered that way.” His eyes fell to her sketchbook. “Can I see what you have in mind?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity any more.

Marinette tensed up immediately, biting her lip. She looked at the book and then at Luka, and then she offered it to him.

Luka took it, though his eyes stayed on her, concerned and a little baffled by her hesitation when the one sketch he’d seen had been so cool. Marinette turned back to the pile of garments she had chosen, though, and so he let his eyes fall and began looking through the few pages of sketches she had made, careful not to go beyond even though he was aching to see more. A slow smile grew on his face as he looked, and he shook his head slightly. “The angels are still my favorite, but these are amazing, Marinette. You might want to get some earplugs because Rose is going to shatter glass when she sees these.” He grinned up at her. “I knew you could do it.”

She smiled faintly, but looked away. “They’re just pictures, though. I still have to actually execute the designs.”

“Hey,” Luka said, reaching a hand up towards her. Marinette blinked in surprise, but she slowly stepped forward and put her hand in his. He tugged gently, and she sank to her knees in front of him. “ Yeah, you might have to make some changes when you go to actually put it together, but that’s part of the process for everybody. Sometimes a song I thought was finished doesn’t work out right the first time I play it with the band, and I have to make some changes.” He hesitated, and then went on. “I don’t know what’s going on in there,” he poked her forehead gently. “And I’m not exactly up on fashion, but—” he gestured at the racks of clothes. “I have some experience too, and I gotta say…” he shook his head, and turned the sketchbook towards her. “You outclass anybody else I’ve worked with by far.”

Marinette blushed deeply. “They’re just costumes,” she murmured, tucking her hair back as she looked away.

“They could have been, but they’re not.” Luka offered her the book back. “Marinette.” He waited until she looked at him. “Do you like them?”

Marinette looked back at the drawings, and bit her lip. Her face was growing red again. “Yes,” she finally admitted quietly.

Luka put his fingers under her chin and tipped her face back up. “Stop thinking so hard,” he said gently. “I know it’s easy to lose faith in yourself, but...you’re creating something, you have to find a way to tune all of that stuff out and just be in that moment. You can deal with the aftermath afterwards.” He grinned. “That’s what editing is for, right? Or so I’m told. I was never any good at it.”

Marinette smiled. “That’s why your music was so good. It was...raw, instinctive. Still polished, but deeply emotional. It’s why I always loved it.”

It was Luka’s turn to flame up red, and Marinette giggled.

“That wasn’t fair,” he huffed, pulling his knees up to hide his face in his arms for a moment.

Marinette laughed harder. “How many thousands of records sold and you blush at a little old compliment from a fan?” she teased.

Luka turned his face on his arms so that he was looking at her. “You’re not just any fan,” he said, and smiled at the pink returning to her cheeks. He sighed, raising his head, and letting his legs fall and cross beneath him again. “Don’t ever let anyone let you feel like you’re not special, Marinette.”

“It’s definitely not a problem when I’m with you,” she said, and then bit her lip, like it had slipped out without her intending it to.

“Good,” he grinned, and then decided he’d better move before he did something stupid. “So, show me what you need me to take down to the car for you, and we’ll just leave the rest of it like this until you’re done in case you need to come back for something.”

“Oh,” Marinette’s eyes widened slightly and she scrambled to her feet. “Right.”

She told him which piles of clothes she wanted to take, and Luka got some bags and gathered them up. Marinette made a token effort at tidying up, despite Luka having told her to leave it. She hung a few things back on the rack, and paused suddenly, hand hovering over a jacket still on the rack.

Marinette picked it up slowly, looking at it. The scent of leather and something like electronics hit her nose, and her eyes widened slightly. She felt around the bottom hem and found something hard and rectangular there. Another minute of searching, and the jacket lit up in her hands, the fiber optic lights sewn into the seam pulsing faintly.

Marinette laughed a little, and crossed over to the trunk Luka had been using as a chair all afternoon. She sat down and spread the jacket across her lap. She remembered this. He’d been wearing it at the show she’d gone to. They’d started with all the lights off and just Luka on stage, wearing this jacket and the pants that went with it, making him just an electric outline on the stage when the curtain went up.

Hard to reconcile that image with the guy from the tree farm, she thought affectionately. But then, he’d always had a reputation for being a sweetheart, good to his fans and generous with his time, so...maybe it wasn’t so hard to believe.

At least this contraption is well made, she thought, running a finger along one of the light tubes. It was still secure after all this time, and clearly in working order.

The lights began to flash and jump around, and Marinette giggled. It had started that right before Luke had swept his hand up and down in a dramatic power chord that had rattled her teeth. Once again it was hard to reconcile them in her mind. It was almost funny, now that she knew Luka, remembering those dramatics.

The light reflected back off something in the corner of her eye, and when she looked, she saw it was the metal coil of Luka’s notebook, half buried under a pile of clothes he had shoved out of the way. She picked the notebook up and smiled a little bit as she did so; the page was a mess, full of scratched out lines, and the writing went every which way in a complicated web. Was this how his mind worked? It was so different from her own process—

Jewels Diamonds in the sands of time Those are my memories with you And even if it’s only a precious few They’re the ones I’ll keep when everything else flows away

It made Marinette think of her first fashion show, when she’d been new and excited about the garments she was putting out there, excited and happy. That moment shone jewel-bright in her memory, despite all the drudgery that had followed it. That was she was working for, after all, another chance at that feeling. All of this frustration would be worth it if she could have another moment like that.

Marinette blinked back to reality and suddenly realized what she was doing. She slammed her eyes shut and turned the notebook over in her lap. Oh, she shouldn’t have looked at that, she thought frantically, her heart suddenly beating triple time. This—this was private, just like her designs were, and she shouldn’t have—but she hadn’t meant to—

Luka’s heavy boots thunked on the stairs and Marinette jumped, dropping the notebook so that it landed on the floor splayed open with an inelegant smack . Marinette scrambled up and hurriedly grabbed it again. She hastily smoothed it out as Luka came the rest of the way up into the attic. “Oh, I think this one is yours,” she said, holding it out to him.

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” Luka said, curling it in half and sticking it in his back pocket. Marinette tried not to wince. “Anything else?” His eyes landed on the jacket in her hands. “Oh, I see you found the switch,” he chuckled.

“Will you put it on?” Marinette blurted, and Luka raised his eyebrows at her. “Please?” she smiled, hunching her shoulders slightly as she held it up.

Eyebrows still raised, Luka took it, and slipped it on. He grimaced slightly as he zipped it up. “Definitely doesn’t fit as comfortably as it used to,” he commented, tugging down on the hem. “Not too bad, though.”

“You probably build muscles in different places, hauling trees,” Marinette said absently, stepping forward to adjust the way it sat across his shoulders for a moment. “Not as uniform a workout as using a personal trainer. It gives you a more natural build.” She smiled a little as she smoothed the arms and stepped back.

“It still looks good on you,” she observed. “You were wearing this at the concert I went to. The first time I saw you live.”

Luka smiled ruefully. “Doesn’t exactly have the same effect in my attic, does it?”

“No,” Marinette smiled back. “It was a wonderful performance, though, and I guess I wasn’t expecting to be reminded of it just now.” She bit her lip and asked in a rush, “Were you...were you writing a song? Just now?” She gestured vaguely toward his pocket.

Luka looked a little taken aback, but not offended. “I was starting to,” he admitted. “I...really enjoy the time we spend together, and it was really nice, seeing a new side of you today. I guess I felt a little inspired, yeah.”

Marinette’s breath caught. “It was...about me?”

“About you and me, yeah,” he admitted. “Does that bother you?”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “No!” How could he think she’d be offended by such a thing? It was...it was amazing, that she’d inspired anything in him, when she was so—and—how she had felt, in that first fashion show, was he...was he saying he felt that way with her ? She shied away from the idea even as she thought it, it was so...so much, and she was so—she was—

Oh no. Luka was looking at her intently, a slight crease in his forehead. She tried to think of something to say, but her internal meltdown was too complete, and she just stared at him.

“You’re extraordinary, Marinette,” Luka said softly, and his expression was completely serious and not at all flirtatious. “Getting to see you work today was a privilege. I’m better for meeting you, even if my heart breaks when you’re gone. It’s...it’s a long way from being a song, but I meant it.”

“But I’m…”

Luka shook his head slightly, a smile softening his expression. “You’re what, Marinette? Tell me everything, I want to hear all of it.”

Marinette gaped. “You—you—how do you do that?” she cried, throwing her hands up. “You’re sweet and kind and you have an amazing talent but you’re so laid back and grounded and—”

“And you are all of those things too,” Luka laughed. “Except maybe the laid back part.” He grinned, and Marinette made a face at him. “You kinda maybe worry too—”

Marinette had taken two large steps toward him. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled. Luka staggered, grabbing on to her shoulders as she dragged him down and kissed him.

He made a very undignified noise even as his arms were coming down to wrap around her. Marinette couldn’t hold the kiss very long; she hadn’t taken a good breath and her nose was smashed against his cheek, so she was forced to break it before Luka really even had a chance to respond.

Luka sucked in a breath, blinking at her. “Are you sure?” he blurted, and then looked like he wanted to kick himself. Marinette had to giggle, giddy with elation and adrenaline, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest.

“No,” she told him when she was able, and a little shiver of fear went up her spine before she stomped it down again. “But I’ve never met anybody like you and...anyway, you’re right. It’s stupid to be tearing myself up over it when I could just be kissing you instead.”

“Very logical,” he laughed, and Marinette kicked his shin lightly.

“Take off this ridiculous jacket,” she told him, tugging. “I can’t take you seriously in this thing.”

“I don’t know, I’m suddenly a lot fonder of it than I was a moment ago,” Luka grinned, putting his hands over hers on the lapels. His tone was teasing, but his thumbs caressed the backs of her hands, and there was a light in his eyes that had her heart galloping all over again.

She slipped her hands away, and Luka fumbled at the hem until he found the switch, turned the lights off, and shrugged the jacket off, dropping it carelessly on the trunk beside them before reaching for her again.

They were still wrapped up in each other when Rose popped her head in the attic looking for them, and rattled the windows with her scream.

Fiction Master Post | Month of Miracles

#quickspins #monthofmiracles2020 #hallmark au #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #promptfic

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love-and-monsters · 4 years

Text

Armon the Aqrabaumelu

Hey guys! Before I get into this, I’m just letting you know I won’t be posting writing for the next two weeks because it’s grad school final time and I have so much work. In the meantime, if you want to give me some prompts, I’m all ears!

M aqrabaumelu X F reader, 2,895 words

You’ve been hired to paint a portrait for a local rich family. What do you make of your irritated (and a little irritating) subject?

Fortune Falls was a small town, but it was surprisingly bustling. Perhaps it was the variety of species that kept it that way. Perhaps it was just the sort of people who came to a place like Fortune Falls, excited young people who were trying to start up new lives and careers. At least half of the shops in town had opened in the last couple of years and were run by young residents.

You weren’t one of the excited newcomers, although you could have easily been mistaken for one. Your family was one of the first to move to Fortune Falls, which meant you had some roots here, and had managed to snag an apartment toward the town center for relatively cheap. Your family was friends with the building owner, and you were handy enough to earn your low rent.

It also meant that your career as a struggling artist was at least somewhat feasible. Your family had connections with the other families in town, especially the well-off ones. The sort of families with the disposable income who could commission artists for portraits.

That was your newest job. A commission for one of the older money families, a portrait of their second-oldest son, since he had come of age. Portraits were, in your humble opinion, exceedingly boring. Trying to paint a face staring off into the distance while subtly tweaking their worst features to suit their vain attitudes wasn’t interesting. You were much more partial to landscapes and nature scenery. Much more beautiful. But you still had expenses and if painting rich people managed to pay them, so be it. You would.

The Aristota house was technically just outside of town, on an enormous plot of land. You gathered your supplies into the passenger’s seat of your ancient car and hobbled up their long, winding driveway.

It was a pretty mansion, you thought. But it was also just a little bit too rich for your taste. The chandeliers, the velvet carpets, the deep reds and golds and creams. It was all just a little too much, like they were more interested in showing off their money than creating a house that was nice to live in.

Fortunately, you knew the family well enough for them to dispense with the overly stuffy pleasantries. “Good to see you again,” Mrs. Aristota said when you entered the sunroom. She was settled on a long, red couch, deep orange carapace glinting in the sunlight. “You’ve met Armon before?”

You looked toward the person she was gesturing at. He looked quite similar to her- a rounded, but sharp-cheeked face, thick lashes, rich, black hair, and long, delicately fingered hands. Like the rest of his family, he was, from the waist down, an enormous scorpion. His carapace was a deep shade of orange and his tail was lifted, curling behind him with its stinging tip brandished outward. You knew enough about aqrabaumelu body language to read the discomfort in his posture.

“We’ve met before,” you said. It had admittedly been years ago, when you were both teenagers, and neither of you had wanted to be around each other. “Hello.”

He dipped his head to you, then went back to staring out the window. He was wearing a black coat with little gold stitches around the hems. His long nails worked at the hem, tearing the stitches out a little at a time.

“You have the specifications for the portrait?” Mrs. Aristota asked. She rose from her couch and skittered over you, looking critically at your supplies.

“Same as the last one I did, I assume,” you said.

“This one will be a little smaller,” she said. “But roughly similar, yes. Armon will give you any more details he desires.” She walked over to him and lifted his chin in her hand. “And smile, won’t you?”

With that, she turned and headed out of the room. You finished placing your canvas on the easel and organized your paints before looking at your subject.

He’d mostly turned his back on you, staring out the windows of the sunroom into the garden. You cleared your throat. No response. You cleared it again, louder this time. His gaze flicked to you, expression unchanging.

“Are you ready to begin?” you asked. “Pick a position you think you can comfortably hold for a bit. I’ll take pictures, but I like sketching in person. It helps me with proportions.”

Armon let out a long, heavy sigh and crept across the room until he was standing in front of you. He stared flatly ahead, tail still hooked and lifted in its defensive posture. His expression was flatly neutral, almost bored. You frowned at him. “Uh. You sure that’s the position you want to go for?”

His dark eyes slid to you for a moment. Then they returned to their staring-blankly-ahead position. You shrugged. “Whatever.” You could make some touch-ups to make the position a little more interesting, more stately instead of bored. After snapping a few photos, you sat down and got to work.

A silence fell over the room. You could hear your pencil scratching against the canvas, the soft noise of your breath. Every now and then, Armon would shift a little and the hard plates of his carapace scraped quietly together. After thirty minutes, you paused, flexing your wrist.

“Wanna move around a bit?” you asked. Armon shifted his head toward you.

“I thought that would be disallowed.” His voice was both deep and quiet.

“Nah. You can shift around a little bit. Just go back to the position when you’re done. I can tweak a little bit to fix any problems. And I need a break too.” You stood up, rolling your wrist and stretching your legs. “Want to take a look at what I have so far?”

He scuttled over to you and peered at the canvas. You saw his eyes move, roving over the image, then he leaned back. There was no change in his face. “What, nothing?” you said. “I thought it was pretty good. Anything you like, don’t like, want more of?”

Armon sighed, shifting his weight. “I don’t know. I’m not an artist.”

“Well, if I think it’s a bad idea, I just won’t do it. I’m just asking your opinion. It’s your portrait.”

Armon laughed. It was a bitter, cold laugh. “This is not me,” he said, pointing at the painting.

You frowned, feeling a flicker of insult. It wasn’t your best work ever, but it didn’t look that bad. It looked like him! “In what way?” you asked, keeping your tone neutral. You’d never had any of them, but you’d heard about clients who wouldn’t let their painters stop until the image looked like a god come to earth. If he was trying that angle, you weren’t sure how long you could bite your tongue for.

Armon looked at you for a moment, then sighed out his nose and waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter.” He walked back over to his position and held it again. This time, he looked even more stiff and uncomfortable. His tail tip twitched like he was threatening to strike.

You looked consideringly at the painting. Even with your careful alterations, he still looked a little stiff. His tail was arched over his back in a way that seemed unnatural, and his expression was severe. You couldn’t give an accurate depiction of his smile because you’d never seen him give one. His brother had been all grins and self-importance. Armon seemed to be sulking.

“I need a break.” You tossed down your pencil. Armon gave you a look.

“Weren’t we just taking a break?” he asked. You stretched, groaning as your joints popped. Armon blinked at you as your arm twisted around. “Humans aren’t supposed to bend that way,” he said. His expression was vaguely queasy.

“I’m double jointed,” you said. “And I need to walk around for a bit. Stretch my legs, you know? And my fingers, otherwise my hands will cramp.” You tilted your head, staring around the room with feigned interest. “Mind showing me around the place?”

Armon clicked his many legs against the ground. “Something you’re particularly interested in seeing?” he asked with little enthusiasm.

“Whatever you’re interested in is fine by me,” you said charitably. Perhaps you could get another emotion out of him that wasn’t sullen disappointment.

There was a moment of consideration, then Armon opened the glass door to the outside. Without checking to see if you were following, he stepped outside and into the sunshine.

You followed him to a small stand of trees around a pond. He settled by it, back pointed at you. “This is nice,” you said, looking around. Your fingers were itching for your supplies. It would be a lovely scene. In fact, Armon’s form seemed to fit well with it. His unfocused, serene gaze, the curl of his lowered tail, the sweep of his black hair over his brow. He seemed much more relaxed than he had in the house.

“I have an idea,” you said. Armon’s gaze became guarded as he looked up at you. “We can continue the painting out here.”

Armon gave you a bewildered look. “What?”

“It’s a nice day. And the sunroom’s really hot. We can keep going out here. Much nicer.” Armon frowned. His many legs shifted, sharp tips digging into the dirt. “Something wrong with that idea?”

“I thought Mother wanted it done in the sunroom.” His voice was stiff and his tail was starting to bristle again. You put on your easiest smile and clapped him on the shoulder. He started at the touch.

“I’ll tell her I thought it looked nicer out here. I’m sure she’ll be fine with it.” You turned and started to head back inside. After a moment, you heard the quiet scuttling of Armon following you.

He watched as you gathered your supplies up. It took some skill to juggle them. You carefully slid the easel under your arm and tried to gather as many paints as you could into your arms. Armon stared at you for a moment, then picked up your paint box from the floor. He held it still while you carefully dumped your paints into it. “Thanks,” you said.

“Just helps speed things up,” he mumbled. Before you could say anything else, he headed out the door ahead of you.

You followed him back to the small stand of trees and set your supplies up again. When you looked up, you clapped a hand over your mouth, barely preventing a giggle.

There were several birds around Armon. Three of them were crows, and one was a blue jay, which was perched happily on his tail, apparently unconcerned by the venom. A chipmunk was eying him from a short distance away, and a squirrel was sitting by one of his hands without concern. Armon seemed to consider this as relatively unimpressive. His expression was just as neutral as it had been before. But his tail, you noticed, was relaxed.

“Uh,” you said gently, “so how long have you been a Disney princess?”

His tail jerked reflexively and the animals scattered. “Oh,” you said, watching in disappointment. “That would have made a cool painting. Can you make them come back?”

“I don’t make them do anything,” Armon said. “They just know me.” He looked around, his gaze softening. “I come out here a lot. It’s nice. Better than inside the house.”

There was something peaceful in his gaze. Almost without thinking, you reached out and started sketching.

“No wonder you seem comfortable out here,” you said. You kept your tone low, trying to encourage his mood. One of the birds hopped cautiously closer. Armon stretched out a hand toward it.

“Mm. The animals are nice.” The bird, a crow, closed the distance between them. Armon let out a low whistle and it hopped onto his hand. “There are stray cats out here too, sometimes. I feed them. Can’t have them in the house, though. Father doesn’t like furry pets.”

“Allergic?”

“No. He just doesn’t like the fur.” Armon stroked a finger over the bird’s head. It let out a croaking note. His lips twitched.

For the first time, you saw the tiniest of smiles appear on his face. You sketched it into place. One of his cheeks dimpled. It was rather adorable.

He stayed still and silent for several moment, stroking absently over the bird’s head. You hurried to get the scene out onto paper. It was a much more relaxed picture than the one you’d been trying to paint inside.

“You seem to have a strong connection with them,” you said after a few minutes. “Can you speak to them?”

Armon looked at you. For a moment, you were pretty sure he wasn’t going to answer, then he shrugged. “Not like we’re speaking. They’re not that intelligent. But I’ve spent enough time with them that I understand their mannerisms.” He glanced at you. “People, not so much.”

“I feel that,” you said. “I’m better with paint than people.”

Armon turned his gaze back to the bird. “You’ve been doing well to me.”

“Yeah, that’s lots of practice. I’m not very naturally good at it.” Armon snorted and his tail lashed.

“I was never any good at it. Nothing like my brother.”

You gave an absent nod. “He’s a charmer, isn’t he?”

Armon closed his eyes. “He’s much better than I am.” There was a pause as he swallowed. The bird fluttered back to the ground and pecked at the soil. “I think my parents have quite given up on me.” He said it with a bit of a laugh, but his expression was twisting in a way that almost made him look like he was going to cry.

You lowered your pencil. “Given up?”

“You need to be good with people to be good at business. I’m awful with them. I’m just too unapproachable. They keep me around, add me to the collection of family portraits, but I am not what they want in a son.”

“Fuck your family,” you said. Armon blinked at you. “Your family’s too up their own ass. No offense. Why don’t you just leave? You’re old enough, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes,” Armon said. “But I don’t really know how. I’ve never been on my own before.”

“You’ve got a lot of money. You’ve got some time. Why don’t you just figure out what you want to do? Not saying it’s going to be easy. It’ll be a lot different than what you’re used to, but it’ll be better. I mean, being an artist isn’t easy. But it’s more enjoyable than doing something easy that makes me miserable.”

The grass rustled as Armon made his way over to you. He sat down, looking at the drawing over your shoulder. There was a moment of silence, then Armon let out a low, shaky sigh.

“That’s me,” he said, reaching over to tap the painting. He traced the slight smile that twitched at his lips, the softness that gathered around his eyes. “That one is me.” He leaned into your side, letting his head rest on your shoulder. “Thank you.”

You didn’t get much more painting done that day. Armon showed you around the grounds a little bit before dropping you off at the front gate. “I’ll show you the painting when it’s done,” you said.

Armon smiled again. It was small, and it looked poorly practiced, but it was something. “I’ll look forward to it.”

It was a couple of weeks before you returned to the house. You met with Armon’s mother before going to the sun room, where Armon was waiting. He looked up as you entered.

“Here,” you said, holding it out toward him. He took it delicately, as if he was afraid his claws would tear the canvas. He stared at it for a long time, just taking in the artwork.

“It’s beautiful,” he said. “It’s better than I thought it was going to be.” He gave a weak smile. “All those portraits in the halls are so stuffy. So formal. They’re never something I really wanted to be a part of. This one is much nicer.”

You shrugged. “You can keep that one, if you want. I’m not getting paid for it.”

Armon’s head snapped up. “Why not?”

“Didn’t meet the specifications your mother was looking for, apparently. She said it was too… um… casual, I think.”

Armon looked down at the painting. “I’m sorry. I should have-”

“Don’t sweat it. It wasn’t your idea, remember? I pushed you into it.” You shrugged. “Your mom’s giving me a second chance, though. I would have to do it right this time.” You perched on the side of a lounge, looking steadily at Armon. “Are you going to be okay with that?”

Armon gave a small smile. “I don’t think I’d mind sitting for another portrait,” he said. “As long as you’re the one doing it.”

“Hey, I’m not exactly mad about it either,” you said. Armon made to hand you back the painting, but you pushed it back toward him. “I did say you could keep that, right? It’s a gift.”

Armon looked down at it with a faint smile. “Thank you,” he said. You memorized that smile. It was going into his portrait no matter what.

#exophilia #aqrabaumelu #fortune falls #monster boyfriend #monster lover #OCxOC #MxF

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Text

Furies (Mermay OT4)

Request from @angellioncosplay, fill is NSFW

The jagged edge of the harpoon slices into his tail.

Barclay knows he’s doomed but he thrashes and tries to dive all the same. He doesn’t know what the boar above wants, doesn’t care, he just wants to go home, he has to make it back to them, please, all he wants is to see them again.

A second barb pierces his side, blood clouds his vision.

In the darkness below, he thinks he sees two red lights racing closer. Then the harpooners tug, and the world snaps to black.

--------------------------------------

“Is he stable?” Duck whispers as Aubrey swims out of Barclay’s bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

“Yeah. I’m glad Indrid warned us when he did; if he’d lost much more blood, I’m not sure even my powers coulda helped.”

“And Joe and ‘Drid?”

“They’re gonna stay with him. I think they’re okay but, well” she sighs, shakes her head, “if that’d happened to Dani, I don’t think anything could make me leave her side.” She loops their arms together as they swim to the door, “do you wanna come stay with us? I know this is hard on them, but you had to, like, break a harpoon in half while one of your friends almost died.”

“Nah, oughta stay in case any of ‘em need somethin.”

“You want to keep Dr. Harris Bonkers for extra support?” She holds out her sea bunny.

Duck rubs it’s back, “I’ll be okay, but thanks for the offer Lady Flame. You get home safe now.”

“I will. Oh” She turns, swimming backwards as she adds, “if he needs any more healing between now and tomorrow, come get me right away!”

He promises he will, locks the house up for the night and floats into the kitchen to put it back in some kind of order. Indrid’s sketch pad and enchanted pen are still on the floor where he dropped them, Joseph’s book and Duck’s half-built model ship knocked sideways from the seer pushing away from the table in a flurry of silver and panic. And on the counter are the ingredients Barclay’d set out for dinner, the ones he was checking off when he realized he needed scallops and swam off with a promise to be right back.

Duck sighs, jumps when something whaps at the green-glass window.

“Jesus Winnie, thought you were in the bedroom.” He cracks the window enough to lift the octopus inside. See slowly slides off his arm, swimming across the floor to the pile of salvaged ship instruments Duck and Indrid found for her.

“Maybe this will keep her from stealing the silverware.” Barclay plucks a knife from the cephalopods tentacle.

Suddenly, he’s too heavy to swim. They almost lost him.

It’s simple, really. Duck is in love with Joe and Indrid. Joe and Indrid are in love with Barclay. But that doesn’t mean Duck doesn’t love the other mer; Barclay is one of his best friends, a sympathetic ear when things go south and the only one of the four of them capable of beating Joe at Ten Shells. Barclay also understands something about Duck that escapes many of their kind; that he can love Joe, curious and meticulous from his black hair to his dapper monochrome tail, and Indrid, strange and aloof until you gave him the right kind of stroke on his silver scales, with the same intensity. It just manifests in different ways.

Duck cracks the bedroom door open, finds the wounded mer on his back in their large, seaweed colored bed. Indrid and Joe are nestled on either side of him. Normally, they’d be an undignified, loving pile, but the bandages on his stomach and tail prevent it.

Indrid stirs, trilling in distress. His nightmares come and go, are most often the echos of horrible futures he was forced to watch over and over. Duck has a pretty good guess as the which one is playing in his mind tonight.

He wiggles down onto the bed, draping his arm over Indrid’s side and guiding his bony back and red fin against his chest. When Indrid registers his weight, the nervous twitches of his tail stop. Duck glances up, watches Barclay’s hand glide down the bed to hold Indrid’s own.

Someone almost took this from them. Almost ripped away pieces of the hearts of the mers he loves most in the world.

And he wants to know who.

------------------------------------------------------------------

“Dearest, how are you feeling?”

“Fine, totally fine.” Barclay tries to sit up as a demonstration, only for his whole body to convulse. He falls back against the bed, whimpering pathetically.

“Hmmm, I was afraid that would be the case. There were some timelines where you healed quickly, but it seems the monsters who attacked you did a great deal of damage.”

“No, no, it was just a twinge, if you give me a sec I can-”

“-You will stay in bed.” Indrid’s red gaze sharpens, “no mate of mine is going to re-open his wounds trying to make me breakfast.”

“Besides” Joseph looks up from setting all the med supplies they need in tidy stacks and lines, “it’s not like Duck or I can’t cook. You need to rest, big guy.” He swims over, strokes Barclays hair. Barclay leans into the feelings, trying to ignore the fear gnawing a new hole in his side.

In the three days since the attack, he hasn’t been alone. His boyfriends and friend take turns sitting with him, talking when he wants to and letting him sleep when he needs, bringing him food and changing his bandages without complaint.

It’s all wrong. That’s not their job. It shouldn’t be, that’s what they have him for. Some part of him wishes they’d been too late. Because he doesn’t want to face what’s coming.

------------------------------------------------

“Any luck?”

“Some. Juno says she saw an unfamiliar hull pass by about an hour before Barclay got attacked, but she wasn’t close enough to see any details.”

“Damn it.” Joseph slams the book one human weapons in frustration, then cringes at his outburst.

Duck swims to him, pulling him up from the chair into an embrace, “We’ll figure it out, slick. Nothin else, happen to know we got a real smart mer workin the case.” He winks, kisses Joseph on the cheek.

He snorts, then looks at the floor, “Some part of me is worried about what will happen if we do figure out who hurt him. I...I don’t believe in violence outside of dire circumstances, but they, they nearly killed him. I’d like to say my motive in seeking them out is to make sure they can’t hurt anyone else but, well, that’s secondary at best. What I want is to make them pay.”

“That makes two of us” Indrid slithers in the door, “he’s sound asleep, not to worry. I have narrowed down our potential culprits with my visions, but I too am afraid of what I may do if I locate the humans who dared harm him.”

“I get the feelin, but right now we’re mostly borrowin trouble. Let’s wait until we know a little more before decidin whether to track ‘em down.”

Joseph nods, opens his mouth to suggest one of them retrieve dinner from the fishmonger down the block, when there’s a crash from the kitchen.

“Damn, Winnie must’ve gotten into the cabinets again.”

Indrid blinks, then frowns, “No, that is not her doing.”

Rushing into the kitchen reveals Barclay trying to arrange food on the counter. His upper body can barely move, and his tail is unable to maintain direction due to the bandages.

“Don’t worry about, ow, me” Barclay smiles at them, but Joseph spots panic in his eyes, “th-thought I’d do some meal prep since you’re all gonna be busy this week.”

He’s about to point out that a)they’re all capable of feeding themselves even when busy and b)Barclay’s only been recovering for a week and a half and Aubrey explicitly told him it would be at least a month before he could move around without help.

Before he can make any points at all, Indrid draws himself up to his full height, frills of his ears fanned out and gestures to the bedroom, “You will do no such thing. You need your rest, dearest.”

“But-”

“That was an order, not a request.” It’s a tone that never fails to make Joseph’s spine turn to mush, and by the flash of pink in Barclay’s tail, he feels the same way. Then his whole tail drains of color and he nods.

“Right. Sorry. I, I didn’t mean to upset you guys.”

Indrid’s frills flatten and he swims swiftly towards the other mer, “Barclay, I’m not-”

“It’s okay. I caused enough trouble already.” He catches Indrid by the chin to kiss him, blows a second kiss Joseph’s way, then disappears into the bedroom.

As Indrid flicks his tail nervously, Duck clears his throat, “Know I joke about him not havin a selfish bone in his body, but this is startin to get ridiculous.”

The silver-scaled mer sighs, coiling his tail around Joseph’s own and opening his arms so Duck will come give him a hug. When the three of them are close together he murmurs, “ I saw this timeline, but I had so hoped it would not be the one we ended up in. I have mentioned before that the culture Barclay and I grew up in as deep water mers is very different than what you have on the reef. One component of that was the belief that a mer who could not carry his weight in his home would not be in said home for much longer. His mate or mates not only could, but were encouraged to, throw him out to make room for a more useful partner.”

The entirety of Joseph’s stomach crawls up his throat, “He really thinks we’d do that to him?”

“I suspect so.” Indrid rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, “Barclay is already prone to such fears, in that he prides himself on taking care of others. And it is a deeply ingrained message and practice, so much so that there are times I still fear you three may turn me away should my powers disappear.”

“‘Drid-”

The mer purrs reassuringly, “But then I remind myself that I am not down there. I am up here, with you who love me regardless of my strength. Seeing the future helps a great deal as well; I can peek and see there are no timelines where you turn me away. Hmm” his tail taps Sterns lower back, “I wonder, is there a way we can mimic that experience for Barclay? Help him see his future here?”

Joseph gets an idea and, for the first time all day, the sense that he’s getting somewhere, “I have a plan.”

----------------------------------------------------------------

Barclay isn’t sure if this is some cruel joke, or if his boyfriends genuinely believe they won’t grow tired of him needing to be cared for all the time. Regardless, he doesn’t know what to do when Joseph lays beside him, kissing his cheek and shoulder as he talks about how they should go see the Kelpie migration this fall, and how he’s heard about a human beach where they serve a swim-up meal to mers and humans alike, and wouldn’t it be nice for all four of them to visit and try the food?

He doesn’t know what to do when Indrid gently sits him upright and combs his hair, jumping from topic to topic between kisses to the back of his neck but always returning to what they should do for Joseph’s birthday, or Dani and Aubrey’s anniversary, or their own anniversary.

He doesn’t know what to do right now, Indrid sitting and drawing while Joseph finishes changing the bandages on his tail. The one on his side came off a few days ago, scar tissue forming a jagged tooth of pink and white in his skin.

Duck swims in, greeting them all at once, his usually friendly expression somber.

“Joe, ‘Drid, could I talk to you in the kitchen? It’ll only be a minute.”

His boyfriends nod, assuring him they’ll be back even as they swim away. He wishes he could believe it, but he can think of only one reason Duck would need to talk to them alone. With a sad little groan, he rolls onto his uninjured side and pities himself to sleep.

-----------------------------------------------------

“You’re sure that’s the one?”

“Positive. Minerva had a near miss with it this mornin, described the exact same thing Barclay did. Speakin of which, we know they’re down a few harpoons because the ones they sent after her she threw right back at them.”

“A fair response if ever there was one. Do we all agree on the plan?”

“Yep”

“Yes.”

“Good” A smile that could make a sea monster afraid, “then let us begin.”

----------------------------------------------------------------

Winthrop lounges on the deck of the Nemo as his guests and the hired guides mill around the edges of the boat. After that run-in with the mermaid earlier today, they’re on pins and needles, hoping to see and (finally) catch another.

Is poaching in a protected cove illegal? Only if you don’t have the money to pay the fine. Is it wrong to hunt the rare creatures that call this stretch of ocean home? Wrong is a deeply subjective concept.

Warmth leaves the deck as clouds swirl above the sun.

“I say, wasn’t it sunny a moment ago?”

“Yep. Could be again, provided y’all head to shore and never come back here.” A voice calls from the bow.

Everyone races forward, shouting in excitement when they discover the merman addressing them with an oddly calm expression.

“Don’t even think about tryin to spear me. You ain’t the only ones with weapons.”

A second mer surfaces, armed with a spear gun he clearly knows how to use.

“Joe’s a damn good shot.”

The other mer fixes them with a steely gaze, “This is your last warning. Leave this cove and never try to hunt here again.”

“Or what?”

The whole boar rocks as something massive bumps the underside. Screams draw his attention to the silver, serpentine shape gliding through the water. A red fin breaks the surface and then it’s gone.

Then the boat nearly capsizes as it rams the port side. In the darkening waves, the monster turns it’s head to look up at them. It’s red eye is the size of a steering wheel, but he forgets all about that when the creature rears up, jaws snapping, and narrowly misses dragging his wife off the boat between butcher-knife teeth.

“Our friend here is mighty angry with you” the first merman rubs the monster's fin as it swims by him, “in fact, he’s downright furious.”

“And it looks like he’s decided to build up some speed before hitting you this time. I don’t think your boat will survive that amount of force.”

“Alright, alright we’ll leave, we’ll go and never come back.”

A hissing screech from the monster.

“We swear!” He says, really meaning it this time.

The first merman points towards shore, “then get goin’.”

The boat speeds away, and Winthrop decides to never, ever look back.

-------------------------------------------

“That was fuckin incredible darlin’”

“Thank you” Indrid returns to his usual form, groggy but pleased, “you were both wonderful as well.”

“Never been happier that you’re so into workin out how human machines operate” Duck kisses Joseph hard, one of Indrid’s favorite sights in the whole of the sea.

“If you like how I handle a spear gun, you should see how I handle, um, other things.”

“I am” Indrid yawns, “in favor of that idea. But first, I believe I am due for a nap, and Barclay is due for an update.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

“You did all that for me?” Barclay twists his fingers in the blanket beneath him, trying to sound pleasantly surprised instead of confused. From the look Joseph and Duck trade, he’s doing a shit job.

“Well, technically we also did it to keep the reef safe from hunters, and hopefully start a legend that will keep any like-minded poachers from coming within fifty miles of our home. Or our family. And yes, dearest, that includes you.” In the darkened bedroom, deep purple shimmers up Indrid’s tail. A signal to obey.

“I, I never said it didn’t.”

“Yes, but it has been on your mind for weeks.”

“I…”

“Barclay” Joseph settles beside him, taking his hand, “Indrid told us about what you two were taught about needing care or being helpless. I, we, none of us want you thinking that’s what will happen here. I promise.”

He doesn’t realize he’s crying, not until Indrid whispers “hush now, dear one” and carefully rests their tails together so that the wound is left untouched.

“I, I thought saying it would make it worse. Make you think I needed reassurance, which would just make it clear how useless I am. I, I know that sounds ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous to feel vulnerable or scared after something traumatic.” Joseph traces his fingers up and down his arm and his scales ripple in reply.

“Nor to feel off-balance when you are unable to do what you usually do.”

“But you gotta tell us next time.” Duck rests next to Joseph, “we care about you, all three of us, but we can’t help if we don’t know what’s wrong.”

He flashes apologetic yellow, “You’re right. I’ll, I’m gonna try to be better about that. It’s just hard for me to let other mers take care of me sometimes.”

The purple returns to Indrid’s tail, and when he turns to look at Barclay his smile is no longer gentle and ethereal. It’s almost tangible enough to slice his chest and send everything he wants pouring onto the bed.

“It seems to me, my dear one, that you could use some practice in that area.”

“Yes” he murmurs, then yips when Indrid bites his throat, “I mean yes, sir.”

“Much better. After all, your convalescence has made such things difficult until now. And yes, Joseph, I will keep an eye on the futures to be certain no one is hurt. Speaking of which: Duck, please adjust so Barclay’s head is in your lap. You’ll need to hold his shoulders down should he try and disobey me.”

A shift of the bed and then his head rests on mottled green scales.

“Hey” He smiles up and Duck sends a crooked grin his way, setting more pink off in his tail. He may not want to fuck him, but Barclay’s not about to deny how handsome Duck can be.

This rumination distracts him from Indrid and Joseph’s conversation, so he’s pleasantly surprised when the black-tailed mer catches his lips in a kiss. It’s precise, down with calculated care that always makes him feel like the most interesting, important thing in the world.

“That’s it big guy, relax for us.”

“I’, I’m tryINGfuck, it’s, it’s kinda hard when Indrid is doing that.”

Indrid chuckles, continues teasing the scales in his upper tail, “Shall I stop?”

“No, please no-”

“Please what?” His slit opens at the steel in Indrid’s voice.

“Please sir.”

“Good boy. Ah, and here’s that lovely cock of yours. What shall I do with it, hmmm?”

“Anything you want sir.” He tries not to giggle as Joseph nibbles his ear.

“I was not asking you.” Indrid cocks his head at Duck.

“Huh” Duck toys with Barclays hair, “think I wanna see you suck it. Been too damn long since you had a dick in your mouth that wasn’t mine.”

Indrid licks his lips and then Barclay’s moans fill the bedroom as his boyfriend lovingly sucks the head of his cock.

“Is now the time to mention he sucked me off yesterday while you were at work?” Joseph smiles up at Duck, though his hand is busy teasing Barclay’s nipples.

Duck growls, “and you didn’t even give an encore where I could watch. Mighty rude of you. Both of you.”

“Don’t blame me” Indrid jerks Barclay off with one hand and fingers his slit with the other, “you know how needy our pet gets.”

“True. Guess I’ll have to put him in his place.” Duck looks down at Barclay, gaze soft in spite of his tone, “not tonight though. Tonight his job is to take care of you.”

“Speaking of which” Joseph turns his face into another kiss just as Indrid’s mouth envelopes his cock once again. He moans and whimpers between those perfect lips, a month of not even being able to touch himself meaning his body is already being dragged towards orgasm. His hand finds Joseph’s tail, petting it enticingly.

“If you AHnnnfuck, lay perpendicular babe, I can suck you off without hurting myself.”

Joseph glances at Indrid, who pulls off of Barclay’s cock and shakes his head, “Not tonight, dearest.”

He whimpers, tries to lift his head, use his tongue to tease Joseph’s retreating tail, only or Duck to hold him firmly in place.

“I know, sweet one, you do so love being inside our pet, whether with that talented tongue, those skillful hands, or this sinful thing.” He gives a final jerk, then uses his tail to guide Joseph into his former position, “And I would never deny you that pleasure. He’s such a good little pet after all.” He kisses Joseph posessively, then glides behind him and sets his hands on his waist, “which is why I am going to fuck him on you. I will control his movements, so as to avoid aggravating your injury.”

“And because you get off on it.” Duck adds.

“That too.”

“AHfuck!” Barclay’s whole tail lights up purple for an instant as Indrid shoves Joseph down onto his cock. He might submit to Indrid, but Joseph is the mer in the sea he most wants to claim, to fuck until he’s begging for more.

“Nghnshit, shit that’s so good big guy, fuck I missed this.”

“Ahem.”

“Thank you Indridoh, ohohohohfuck.” Joseph’s hands scrabble on Barclay’s tail as Indrid bounces him up and down. He looks so handsome like this, cock hard and slit swallowing Barclay to the hilt, dark hair loose and framing his head like a crown.

Barclay reaches for him, desperate for a touch, but Duck holds him down.

“Thank you, love, if he had moved just then he would have hurt himself.”

“Don’t care” Barclay growlwhines, “Joseph, babe, wanna touch you so bad.”

“You’ll get to, big guy, there’ll be plenty of chances after this.”

He growls, teeth clenched as the riptide of his orgasm pulls at him.

“It’s okay big fella, you can let go. We’ve got you.” Duck’s voice, as soothing as the hand he scritches down his scalp.

“Fuck” is all he gets out before Indrid pushes Joseph down and Barclay spurts up into him with moan.

“Better, big guy?” Joseph’s smile is as dazzling as ever.

“Uh huh.” His bones are mud, his eyes heavy, and he feels better than he has all month.

“Good. Come, let me look you over and hold you. Duck and Joseph will join us shortly.”

“But I thoughtAHfuck” is all he hears before the sound of Duck frantically fucking Joseph fills one half of the room, his boyfriends moan switching from charming to mouthwatering as Duck keeps fucking him after he’s cum.

Indrid builds them a nest on the other side of the bed, guides him into it to comb his hair and rub his aching shoulders, humming as he does. Eventually, Duck swims over to join them, Joseph more floating than swimming in his embrace.

“How do you feel, big guy?”

“Good. Really, really good.” He closes his eyes, safe in the knowledge that his home and family will still be his when he wakes up.

Then he opens them again.

“Wait, so what the fuck did you actually do to the guy who harpooned me?”

#OT4: Government Men and Their Cryptid Boyfriends #mermay fills #indruck #sternclay #inclay #agent stern/barclay/indrid cold/Duck newton #agent stern/duck newton

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komotionlessqueenmm · 4 years

Text

Imagine # 687

1,834 - Words

Gif NOT mine. (Found on Pinterest.)

If this gif is yours please let me know, so I can give you credit.

Gif credit goes to - Unknown.

Year posted - 2020

Warnings - A little swearing.

Notes - None

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"I'm telling you Charlie you're going to love her." Phil gushed for the millionth time. "So you say." Charlie muttered still doodling in his sketch book, within the prisons art room. "She's a brilliant artist, a local celebrity really." Phil smiled to himself, before his eyes shot to the opening door of the room. "Phil." (Y/n) smiled at the man awaiting her at the bottom of the stairs, her heels clicking noisily as she descended said stairs. "(Y/n) its so lovely to see you." Phil chirped while pulling her into a friendly hug. "I was looking over those drawings you sent me." (Y/n) grinned from ear to ear. "I can't wait to meet the man behind the pen." She added before handing the drawings back to Phil. "Of course of course, he's right here. Charlie mate this is (Y/n)." Phil ushered Charlie over who was sitting quietly observing the two. "We've been waiting here for a little while now, eager for your arrival." Phil added as Charlie approached. "So you're Charlie Bronson? I've heard so much about you, I must say you are a man of reputation." (Y/n) mused while shaking his hand. "Yeah that's me." Charlie sighed under his breath, sounding almost bored. "I've looked over some of your work, and its quite charming really." (Y/n) said as she pointed to the drawings in Phil's hands. "Your style actually reminds me of an uncle of mine, from my father's side. Ironically enough he also spent some time in prison years ago." She continued, her complements fueling Charlie's ego. "Every year I come here in search of an apprentice, sometimes they remain my apprentice for a few years, like my last apprentice did. Sadly however he got on the wrong side of a local here, and got himself killed." (Y/n) wet her lips allowing Charlie a moment to process her words. "Phil here suggested that I take you under my wing, if you're interested of course." She smiled softly. "I don't think the Gov will allow me the privilege." Charlie pointed out, knowing the man hatted him. "Well just between us, he's had quite the crush on me since I started doing this whole apprenticeship thing. I'm confident I can convince him by simply batting my lashes at him." (Y/n) winked with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Is that so?" Charlie smirked a little, finding her rather amusing. "But only if you're interested of course, I'd rather avoid the man if I can. Makes my skin crawl that one." She frowned a little in disgust at the thought of the man. "Alright, what dose this internship entail?" Charlie asked while leaning against the table to his right. "Well first off, I'll be teaching you how to hone your skills as an artist, and help you to find your true potential, to the best of my abilities. I would be visiting you daily, for however long I see fit. Maybe even if you get yourself in trouble, seeings how the old creep can't seem to say no to me." She shrugged a little at the last comment. "Alright I'm in." Charlie nodded his head once, before going back to his original seat. "Okay I'll go see what I can do about the Governor." (Y/n) waved goodbye to Phil before leaving the room. "See I knew you'd like her." Phil smiled while Charlie simply grunted at him.

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The following day Charlie sat across from the Governor, in his little office. "I don't know how, but you've caught the interest of Miss (Y/n) (Y/l/n), and she wishes to take you as her new apprentice. I have granted her permission to due so, but I'm warning you now Charlie, if you so much as hurt a hair on her head, I'll have you locked in solitary for the rest of your stay here." The older man hissed, his threat only making Charlie smile. "What kind ov a man do you think I am, eh?" Charlie taunted, making the Governor roll his eyes. "I know exactly what kind of a man you are Charlie." The Governor sighed before waving him off. "She'll be here later today, and every day after until you mess up." He added as Charlie was being escorted out of his office.

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(Y/n) did in fact come back, just a few hours later. Meeting with Charlie in his cell of all places. "Right let's get to it yeah?" She shrugged her bag off of her shoulder and placed it on the foot of his bed, where she rummaged through it a moment later. "Ah here we are." She smiled as she pulled out the new materials she had brought with her. "These are for you." She handed them to Charlie, who slowly looked over everything she gave him. "I'd like to watch you draw if that's alright, I want to observe your process, and techniques." (Y/n) explained, smiling when Charlie sat at his desk. "You can watch, just try not to talk to much. Phil gets real annoying after awhile." Charlie glanced up at her as he began settling everything up. "Of course." She bowed her head a little, respecting his wishes.

As Charlie drew (Y/n) peered over his shoulder, fascinated by his technique, and rather pleased with his natural skills. "How's that?" Charlie leaned back in his chair, looking up at (Y/n), who grinned at him. "It's fantastic, tell me what does this mean to you?" She asked while leaning in a little closer observing the finer details, unknowingly pressing her breasts against Charlie's shoulder. "What?" He exhaled through his nose noisily, almost stunned by the sudden contact. "What does this all mean to you? If anything at all." (Y/n) asked while pulling away so she could properly look at his face. "It's just some of the things I felt while at the asylum." He cleared his throat, having calmed his nerves when she pulled away from him. "Interesting." (Y/n) hummed before going back to her bag. "I want you to try something for me Charlie." She muttered as she unfolded the large piece of canvas paper, she had pulled from her bag. "I want you to try copying this drawing, but in your own style." She explained before using her chewing gum to stick the paper to the wall above his desk. "What is it exactly?" He asked eyeing the strange looking drawing before him. "I'm not entirely sure yet, I drew this yesterday after I left here, I got some inspiration." She tilted her head a little, looking at her work. "Get some inspiration from me did ya?" Charlie teased. "I did actually, while I drew this I replayed our conversation together, remembering the way you held yourself, your facial expressions, mood, all of it really... And this is the product of that." (Y/n) explained, once again fueling Charlie's ego. "Is it a good thing or a bad thing?" He asked while looking from her to the drawing, finding it almost hypnotizing. "Personally I believe it's a good thing, but I guess like most art, it is what you make of it as the viewer." She looked back to Charlie, who seemed pretty pleased with her answer. "Right, well this might take a little while." He stated while scooting his chair in. "Take however long you need." (Y/n) hummed softly while clasping her hands behind her back. "You're welcome to sit on the bed if ya like." Charlie added before picking up his pencil. "Thank you Charlie." (Y/n) smiled before delicately setting on the edge of the mattress, trying to avoid making to much noise.

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For a little over two months now, (Y/n) has been working with Charlie. And it wasn't until today that he acted out, and got himself into trouble. But as she promised she convinced the Governor to allow her to still visit him. While Charlie sat in his cell, blood oozing a little from the gash on his head, he counted the seconds it took for (Y/n) to reach his cell. Her heels giving her away the second she stepped into his cellblock, clicking away as she approached. "I don't know why you bother." The guard opening Charlie's cell hissed at (Y/n), who in turn held her head up a little higher while glaring at the overweight man. "That's none of your concern." She spat back as the door opened, making Charlie smile the best he could with the muzzle they put on him.

"Christ." She muttered under her breath in surprise, completely stunned at the sight of him all bloody and bound. "Aye love." Charlie murmured the best he could, both blood and drool running down his chin. "What did they do to you?" She frowned before softly sitting on her knees across from him on the floor. "You'll dirty your dress." He almost frowned at the sight of his blood on the floor, as it began seeping into the soft fabric of her skirt. "I don't give a damn about the dress." She waved his comment off, more worried about him. "Besides you're more important to me than some old dress." She leaned forward dropping her voice so only Charlie could hear her. "I'm going to remove these wretched things, but you must remain quiet, otherwise we'll both be in trouble." She waited for Charlie to nod his head in agreement before reaching for the strap on the muzzle. "There." She sighed softly as she pulled the muzzle away from his face. "Alright could you turn for me?" She asked planning on removing the straight jacket. "Nah leave it I'm alright, besides if someone decides to barge in 'ere, you won't get in as much trouble for removing just the muzzle." Charlie pointed out making (Y/n) bite her lip softly. "Good point." She nodded her head agreeing with him.

"So tell me Charlie, what happened?" (Y/n) asked as she removed a handkerchief from her handbag, slowly wiping away some of the blood from his face. "One of the guards took away that drawing you hung on my wall, the one you gave me the first day we worked together, cunt tore it up while talking ill about you. I wasn't gonna stand for it, so I beat the fucker bloody." Charlie observed her face, watching her closely as she frowned at his words. "Those bastards can't just let things be can they, always gotta rattle the cage, and punish those that bite back." She murmured while cleaning the last of the blood away the best she could. "Don't worry. You ever get outta here, I'll give you as many drawings as you'd like, then no one can ever take them from you again." (Y/n) smiled softly at Charlie, who began mulling over her words. Did he want to get out? Or did he still wish to stay?

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